


Stormseeker: Dragon Age

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Stormseeker Saga: Alternate Timelines [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Crossover, Dimension Travel, M/M, Qunari, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexen Chelseer bears many masks and plays many roles as he wanders the realms of Thedas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Circle Mage

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first version of the story that eventually became [Blight of Dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/552113).

"This Ferelden Circle Tower sounds interesting," I say, looking over my options for magic schools. "I'll go there, I think."

"Alright," Calto says. "I've got the Nexus calibrated for you. Head on through."

"Thanks, Calto. See you."

I step into the Nexus, and the mists take me away to another strange world.

I arrive in a small settlement on a lakeshore. It's a beautiful, sunny day, and across the water, I see a tower spiring toward the sky. This must be the Circle Tower where the mage school Calto mentioned is located. I stroll over toward a nearby dock, which looks as though it has a boat. A ferry to take people across to the tower, perhaps.

"Excuse me, sir." I approach a man wearing rough clothing. He looks up over at me as I come up to him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you need, boy?"

"Is this the Circle Tower?" I ask. "Where the mages go to learn?"

"That it is," the man replies. "Have you some business here?"

"I'd like to go there and learn magic," I say. "Is there someplace I need to sign up or something?"

He looks at me with a puzzled expression for a long moment. "You can't just sign up to learn magic, boy. You've got to be born a mage, you know."

"I know!" I say. "I _am_ a mage. So can I go to the tower?"

"Ah. I see," the man says, eyes widening a bit. "Well, it's good of you to come. I'll take you straight across, then."

"Thank you."

I hop into the boat behind him and he takes me across the lake to the Circle Tower. This place looks so much more grand than anything the Elkandu ever built, that's for sure. The ferryman speaks to a man in armor on the far shore.

"This young mage wanted to come to the tower. He's yours to deal with now." He heads back to his boat and leaves me at the tower with the armored men. They escort me inside.

An old man in mage robes comes to meet me. "Hello there, young man. I'm First Enchanter Irving. And who might you be?"

"I'm Lexen Chelseer, sir. Pleased to meet you."

"Such a polite young man. Might I ask how old you are?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "Probably around ten or eleven."

"And you came here by yourself, they said?" he asks. "Of your own will?"

"Well, yeah," I reply. "My parents are far, far away from here."

"It's just a little strange that a young mage comes here by themselves rather than being brought by the templars, but I'll not complain of it. You'll be safer here, and you'll be able to learn how to harness your powers without endangering anyone else."

I wonder what this is about templars, but I keep quiet so as not to look out of place in this world. "I wouldn't want to be any trouble."

"Of course. Let's see about getting you settled in as an apprentice. You're around the same age as many of the children the templars find and bring here, after all. And you won't need to worry about going hungry or being hurt by people who fear what you can do."

During my time at the Circle Tower, I learn how things are for mages in this world, from listening to the other mages and the templars speaking. I gather information quietly and piece together a surprising picture.

After my experience with the Elkandu, it's difficult to imagine a world where the mages not only are not on top of everything, but are treated almost like criminals, locked away in a tower, and anyone outside the Circle is called an apostate and hunted down.

And here I walked right into it and trapped myself without even realizing this.

* * *

I study magic. For all the difficulties the mages here have, they do know a satisfying array of magic schools. I learn a bit of everything that I can get my hands on. Elemental magic of different sorts, healing, protection, affliction, manipulation of magic itself...

In this manner, learning as much as I can, years of study pass. It's very relaxing, even if I'm trapped in this tower for now. I can't let myself fully relax, however. There's always the nagging feeling in the back of my mind of uncertain death just around every corner. I think I've become paranoid, maybe.

My paranoia isn't unjustified, however. The templars give me no warning whatsoever when they take me for my Harrowing. I'd heard about this ritual, although precious little. The prospect scares me a little, but not nearly as much as the thought of becoming Tranquil. The idea of never being able to feel my magic again terrifies me beyond words. To avoid that, I'll happily go through all levels of hell.

"I've prepared the lyrium for the ritual," First Enchanter Irving says. "This is your last chance to back out. If you'd rather not risk the Harrowing and would prefer to be Tranquil instead, now is the time to speak up."

"Maker, no, I don't want to be Tranquil," I say. "Let's get this over with."

"You will be sent into the Fade," Irving explains. "There, you must face and overcome a demon that will be trying to possess you. If you fail... the templars here will not hesitate to kill you before you can become a danger to anyone else."

"Got it. I won't fail."

"I hope for your sake that your wit and skill matches up to your courage," Irving says. "Very well. Good luck to you."

The Fade is a strange place, like nothing I've ever seen before. All that I've learned and read about it doesn't prepare me for the sheer strangeness of the place. A surreal dreamworld where nothing is quite normal.

On the path ahead of me, I see a mouse, of all things. "What is this?" the mouse speaks. "Another young mage sent to the wolves?"

"Er, hello?" I say uncertainly.

As I approach, the creature shifts form, and a robed man appears before me in its place. "I'm an apprentice who failed my Harrowing. The templars killed my body, leaving me trapped here. I've been here so long that I've forgotten my real name, so you can just call me Mouse."

"Really?" I say. "Well, that sucks."

"You'd best not take too long in here, or they'll think you've failed and kill you, too."

"I haven't even been in here five minutes yet," I reply. "I'm not all that worried about that just yet."

"I'd like to help you fight your demon. That's what they sent you here for, right? Inflicting demons upon young mages who are barely more than children..."

"Alright, I suppose I won't complain," I say. "But try to stay out of the way, alright?"

"I'm good at that," Mouse says.

With that, he takes on the form of a mouse again and follows after me as I continue down the path. After traveling around a bit, I encounter a rage demon, and quickly vanquish it with ice magic. That seemed almost too easy.

"A rage demon?" I say with a snort. "Is that it? How disappointing. Oh well."

"You will make for a great and powerful mage one day, I am certain," Mouse says. "Nothing will be able to stop you from whatever you wish to do."

I have to grin at his words of praise. It's nice to see talent recognized.

"Perhaps one of your skill and power would be capable of helping me out," he goes on. "I might be able to get out of the Fade again, with your aid. Would you be willing to assist me?"

"What would I have to do?" I ask.

"To get out of the Fade, I'll just need to come out in your body, if you're willing..."

That makes me raise an eyebrow in a touch of alarm. "I'm not keen on sharing my body with anyone, demon or otherwise."

"But, it need only be temporary," Mouse says. "We could find another body for me once I'm free."

"From where?" I ask. "Do you intend to haunt a corpse, or possess somebody else, then? Sorry, I'm not going in for this. Come to think, you said you were an apprentice, so why are you wearing senior enchanter's robes? You're not really what you claim to be at all, are you."

"So, you've found me out," Mouse says.

He stops pretending and takes on his true form, towering above me like a terrible monstrosity. I fearlessly fold my arms across my chest and look up at him, trying to appear less bothered about his appearance than I really am.

"You are quite the proud human," the demon says. "We could do great things together, you and I. With my help, you could be the mightiest mage that ever lived."

"Ah, good," I say. "You've stopped trying to insult my intelligence with lies and are trying to tempt me with power, now. You do realize that even if you were to possess me, if the templars found out, they'd just kill me anyway, right? You'd not exactly have much chance to come out into the material world to play. If you were to simply possess me, you might be able to kill some of the templars, but even one so mighty as you would not make it out of the tower."

"Your wit does you credit," the pride demon replies. "What you say is true. And yet, I wonder..."

"What?"

"Most mages are not skilled and self-controlled enough to hide the fact that they are possessed. But if anyone were capable of fooling the templars, I believe you could do it."

Is the power worth the risk? At least if the templars find out, it'll be a quick enough death, I suppose.

"Alright, then," I decide. "Let's do this."

"Excellent. All you need to do is let me in, willingly..."

I open myself up to the demon, and I can feel him slipping inside of me, entering my body and merging with me. Like fire in my veins, I can _feel_ the demon's incredible power flowing through me. I almost have to laugh. Even if I die in a moment, surely this was worth it just for that feeling of power.

I open my eyes as I exit the Fade, and look up to see a templar standing above me. How easy it would be just to crush this maggot beneath my feet. But no, I must stay calm. I must control myself, that they not realize what I have done.

"I was afraid of this," Irving says. "There's too much pride in you. I'm sorry, Lexen."

"What are you talking about?" I say indignantly. "I defeated that demon!"

"Do not think you'll fool anyone in this room, abomination," Irving says. "Everything you said and did in the Fade was being monitored. How else do you think we could conduct any sort of test?"

Well, crap. So much fo that idea. I can feel the demon's fear and anger, but I'm calm. Deadly calm. I see the templar raising his sword to strike me down, and before he finishes the blow, I lash out with a bolt of lightning. That templar underestimated me, and paid the price with his life, but the next one is prepared with antimagic.

Unfortunately, even with my powers enhanced by the pride demon, I'm not strong enough to take out dedicated mage-killers. I'll need to learn some way to bypass their abilities if I want to get away with something like this.

A templar's sword pierces my body. In a last ditch effort of desparation, I give myself entirely over to the demon. My body warps and twists, and claws reach out to try to crush the magic-resistant foes, but it's no use. Too little, too late.

"It was fun while it lasted. Perhaps another time. Sorry." I apologize to my demon, and crumple to the ground without much regret.

The glowing mists of death surround me.

"Power-hungry much?" Shazmar says with an amused grin.

I chuckle softly at the little deity that appears before me. "Well, it was worth a shot. Why not?"

"You're getting reckless," Shazmar says. "You'd have needed to mind-control everyone, or overpower them with abilities they couldn't resist, in order to survive that."

I give a nod. "Yeah. I know. And I didn't have enough of either one, sadly."

"So, what exactly did you hope to accomplish even if you did get away with it?"

"I don't know," I admit. "It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Isn't that what they always say?" Shazmar says, chuckling. "You know, it seems like half the time you wind up here, you know perfectly well you did something stupid, and that it was stupid before you walked into it, and yet you did it anyway. Why?"

"I suppose knowing that death won't kill me gives me a license to be reckless sometimes."

"This is true," Shazmar says. "But you should be careful. You may one day encounter something that leaves a permanent mark upon you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, why don't you go back there and give that demon a rain check? You can always get yourself possessed at another time when there aren't templars watching you like a hawk, if you're so eager to become an abomination."

* * *

No amount of prior time spent in the Fade ever makes me used to the bizarreness of it. It's disorienting and unreal, but I focus and bring my mind to a proper grounding. Ahead of me, I see a mouse, or rather, a pride demon in disguise, as I well know by now. I greet it cheerfully.

"Hello, demon," I say with a wicked grin.

The mouse, seeming rather surprised, changes form and takes on the appearance of a mage. "I'm not a demon! I'm just an apprentice who has become trapped here."

"You're a demon," I repeat. "A pride demon, to be specific. Don't think you're going to fool me like that. I can tell perfectly well what you are."

The pride demon proceeds to make the same attempt at temptation, but this time I won't give in to it.

"Sorry," I say. "Not today. I'm not going to risk the templars today." I reject the demon's offer brightly and with a smile.

"Ah, well," the demon replies. "Perhaps we shall meet again one day, young mage. I look forward to the opportunity."

I hear the pride demon's laughter echoing deeply in my ears even as he fades away from my sight, and I emerge from the Fade once again.

"Congratulations, young Lexen," Irving says. "You have passed the Harrowing. You are now officially a mage of the Circle. Here are robes and a staff befitting your new station."

"Thank you, sir."


	2. Jowan

I accept the First Enchanter's gifts and head for my new quarters to get changed. It's kind of nice being out of the apprentice quarters finally, but my new room is going to take some getting used to.

The mages I pass politely congratulate me on passing my Harrowing. I also hear some talk of there being a Grey Warden in the tower, with some hopes that they will be recruited. I've heard vaguely of the Grey Wardens before in my time in the tower, but I know almost nothing about them. But it seems that I'm about to find out more.

I'm summoned to the First Enchanter's office, and the Grey Warden in question is there himself, seemingly eager to meet me. I haven't seen anyone wearing quite so many belts before. I start to count them... how many does he have? Seven, eight?

"So this is the pupil that you've spoken so highly of, is it?" the Grey Warden says. "I hear congratulations are in order for your Harrowing."

"Thank you, sir," I reply. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Lexen, my boy, this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens," Irving says. "He will be our guest at the tower for the time being. Would you escort him to the guest chambers down the hallway?"

A thinly veiled excuse to give Duncan a chance to talk to me, it seems.

"Of course, First Enchanter," I say. "If you'll follow me, Grey Warden, sir, they're right this way."

I lead him out into the hallway, although not particularly rushing it.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the Grey Wardens, sir," I say conversationally.

"We are a group dedicated to fighting the darkspawn," Duncan replies.

"So, has there been trouble with the darkspawn recently?" I ask.

"I believe our world may be facing another Blight," Duncan says quietly. "You've heard of the Blights, have you not? Where the darkspawn sweep across the land, destroying everything in their path?"

"Yes, of course," I say. From books, at least. But then I know about most things in this world only by books, so far. "So I take it you're here looking to recruit for the Grey Wardens to help fight this Blight, then?"

"You are precisely correct," Duncan says. "Irving has told me much praise about your wit and abilities. I have yet to see the latter, myself, but it seems he was not exaggerating on the former."

"Being a Grey Warden sounds awfully dangerous," I say. "But if duty demands that that should be my path, then I will go."

I've lived a quiet life in Ferelden up until now. Frankly, it's been getting a little boring, even with the constant dangers of being blown up while studying magic. But I'm not sure about willingly going out into the world to fight monsters like this. Well, the decision is probably out of my hands by this point, anyway. Maybe I should have tried to look more like a mediocre mage, but it's difficult to hold back when I have skills a bit beyond what they ought to be.

"Your attitude does you credit," Duncan says. "It will remain to be seen what shall be necessary to keep Ferelden safe."

"Here's the guest chambers, sir. Will that be all for now?"

"Yes, thank you," Duncan says. "I'm sure you have better things to be doing than showing an old man around the tower."

"Not really, sir, but as you say, I shall leave you to it." give him a respectful bow and head back toward my new quarters.

"Psst!"

I turn to look, and there's my friend Jowan, skulking in the corridors. "What is it, Jowan?"

"I need to speak with you about something. Not here. Meet me in the chapel." He's glancing around shiftily and acting suspicious.

I roll my eyes and sigh at his behavior. "Fine, fine. Let's go to the chapel, then."

I follow him over down the corridor to the chapel. Not being particularly religious, this isn't someplace that I have spent a lot of time, even though I pay lip service to this world's 'Maker' in order to fit in.

"Alright, Jowan, what's this about, anyway?"

"Lexen, you're my friend, and I trust you. So I'd like you to meet Lily." He gestures toward a young woman dressed as a Chantry initiate. I raise my eyebrow to him.

"What's going on, Jowan?" I ask.

"You mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone," Jowan says. "You see, me and Lily, we're-- we're in love."

I stare at him for a long moment, then stare at the priest, then I put my face into my palms and sigh. "Jowan, you're an idiot, you know that, right?"

"But, I love her!" Jowan insists. "I want to be with her for the rest of my life!"

I sigh again and shake my head in disgust at these love-struck morons.

"There's a problem, though," Lily says.

"I'd certainly say so, yeah," I say. "Maker's breath, Jowan, what were you thinking?"

"There's more, though," Jowan says. "You see, there's rumors going around that some people think I've been dabbling in... well... blood magic."

"They're going to make him Tranquil!" Lily exclaims.

"Well, is it true?" I ask.

"Is what?" Jowan wonders.

" _Are_ you a blood mage?"

"Of course he's not," Lily says. "It's just an awful, awful rumor."

"Lexen, what's your opinion on blood magic?" Jowan asks.

"I think it's kind of disappointing that I haven't been able to find any books on it," I say.

The priest girl looks horrified at my words. "How can you say such a thing? Blood magic is a horrible, evil thing!"

 

I give a shrug. "It's just magic. I fail to see what's so bad about it. Why does using blood magic automatically make a person evil? Using healing magic doesn't automatically make someone good. A person can torture someone, and then use healing magic to keep them from dying so that they can continue to torture them even more, for example."

"That's an awful thought!" Lily says. "Jowan, are you sure we can trust this man? He seems a bit... questionable."

"Relax, Lily," Jowan assures her. "He's my best friend. If we can't trust him, we can't trust anyone."

"As you say, my love." She sighs, and doesn't seem happy at all at the prospect, but Jowan seems a little relieved.

"Anyway," I say. "So just what are you planning on doing about this all? If you really think they're going to make you Tranquil, then you can't just stay here... I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, never mind a friend."

"We're going to try to sneak out of the tower," Jowan says. "But first, we need to destroy my phylactery, or they'll be able to track me down no matter where I go."

"Right, the blood they take from us when we come here so that they can imprison us like common criminals and haul us back if we try to wander off. Isn't it a bit strange that they forbid blood magic, but use it themselves?"

"I never thought of it that way," Jowan says pensively.

"Anyway," I say again. "Do you know where your phylactery might be stored?"

"It should be down in the basement, where they keep the apprentice phylacteries," Jowan says.

"Right, the basement," I say, taking a deep breath. "No problem..."

We head down to the basement and proceed to break in. A little too easily, in my opinion. As we're sneaking around the basement corridors, I have to comment on this.

"This seems way too easy," I say. "This is probably a trap."

"You call that _easy_?" Jowan says incredulously. "You had to get a rod of fire to break through the door, and we've had to fight several magical guardians!"

"Yeah. Too easy," I repeat. "What would you have done if there'd been just a single templar standing near the door? There's nothing here but dumb, automatic defenses."

"I think you're just being paranoid," Jowan says. "My phylactery should be around here someplace. Then I'll finally be free."

I chuckle. " It's a pity they already sent mine away. I'd love to escape with you. You couldn't have decided to do this sooner?"

"Sorry," Jowan says sheepishly. "Ah, here it is. My phylactery..."

He picks up a fragile glass vial and looks at it for a brief moment, before throwing it to the ground. I wince involuntarily at the sudden shattering sound and broken glass scattering across the floor.

"At last, freedom. Come, let's get out of here before we're discovered."

We head out of the basement. Outside, waiting for us, is First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir.

"Ah, young Lexen," Irving says. "I'm disappointed in you."

"You three are going to be punished quite harshly for your actions," Greagoir says.

"No!" Jowan exclaims. "I won't let you do this! You're not going to hurt Lily!" He cuts his hand, and a burst of magic sends the First Enchanter and the templars flying into the far wall. "Come on, Lily. Let's get out of here."

"You... you're a blood mage!" Lily says, stepping back from him in shock.

"Yes... I'm sorry I deceived you," Jowan says. "But I just dabbled a bit. Please forgive me. We have to go, before they recover."

"Jowan, you _threw them all into a wall_ ," I point out. "Powerful mages and templars! If that's 'just dabbling', I'd love to see what an expert could do."

"And they shall be named maleficar, accursed ones," Lily murmurs. "They shall find no rest in this world. Or beyond..." The priest woman is kneeling and praying, and Jowan, seeming to realize he isn't going to be able to convince her to go with him, decides to run off while he still has the chance.


	3. Apostate

"Jowan!" I call. "Jowan, wait for me!"

I dash off after him before the templars have had a chance to recover. The templars at the tower gates try to stop us. A few well-placed lightning bolts on my part, and some blood magic from Jowan, and we're in the clear. We dash outside.

It's been years since I've seen the open sky, and it feels almost terrifying being out here again like this. We find a nearby boat, and quickly set to rowing away from the tower.

"Thanks for the help, Lexen," Jowan says. "But they still have your phylactery. They'll be able to hunt you down."

"I know," I say with a sigh. "No help for it now, though. I don't know what they would have done with me had I just stayed there."

"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess."

"No need to apologize," I say. "It was my choice to try to help you. But if you really want to make up for it, you can start by teaching me some of that blood magic you were throwing around back there."

"Alright, I can do that," Jowan says. "I still have the book with me, and I can help teach you what I know. I never realized you were interested in that sort of thing before, though."

I snort softly. "That's because, unlike you, I have the capacity for discretion. I'm afraid it occasionally fails me and leads me to doing stupid, reckless things, however, like walking into an obvious trap. Or carrying around books on blood magic around the tower."

"Sorry again."

"Heh, relax," I say. "I'm more complaining at myself for being stupid than for you. I'm the one who should know better."

We reach the far shore. We didn't row toward the settlement on the edge of the lake, but a fair ways away from there, out of sight in the trees.

"Do you know where they sent your phylactery?" Jowan asks.

"To Redcliffe, I think," I say. "I couldn't tell them where I originally came from, so they just picked someplace, I guess."

"Redcliffe isn't too far away. We can go there and try to destroy it so you can be free."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I say.

We travel for several hours to try to put some distance between ourselves and the Circle Tower, even knowing that they'll be able to find us, especially if we stick together. Eventually, well into the night, we set up a makeshift camp. We managed to catch ourselves a rabbit, so we have food at least.

While we rest and eat, Jowan starts to teach me the basics of blood magic. He's surprisingly knowledgeable about it, considering all he learned was simply from reading a single book, and he hadn't even learned all he could from that, yet. We both learn a fair bit as we travel.

Jowan and I continue to travel toward Redcliffe over the next several days. Then, as we're maybe a day out of town, I spot movement in the trees nearby. An armored figure, moving about, looking like he's searching for someone.

I put my hand on Jowan's arm to get his attention, and put my fingers to my lips, silently pointing to the very unstealthy templar wandering around the bushes.

"It's just one templar," Jowan says quietly. "We can kill him."

"There might be more nearby," I say. "We must be cautious. Don't be too flashy."

I don't know when kiling people became so casual for me. Back at the tower, I didn't exactly have time to stop and think about what I was doing. I don't know how many of those templars died because of my spells. And now I'm planning to kill another one, to protect the life of myself and my friend. That was a combat situation, back then. This... I have time to think ahead on this. This is murder. We could just try to slip away and avoid detection. But it's safer to just kill them.

Also... I'm eager to try out some of the blood magic Jowan's been teaching me. I pull out my knife and cut my hand. Ouch. Well, the rush of power makes up for the momentary pain.

Before the templar realizes I'm nearby, I send my magic into him, silencing him and drawing out his life force.

Tingling of raw energy in my veins... It feels... so good.

And then, before I know it, the man is dead, and the pleasure fades.

"Heh, you're good at that," Jowan says.

"Let's look around a bit and see if there are any others nearby," I say. "I bet he was just a scout."

Sure enough, it doesn't take long to find the templar camp. I stop Jowan with a raised hand, looking to count our foes, and whisper to him.

"Too many," I whisper. "We can't take them all on at once."

"What should we do?"

"We're going to have to try to avoid them, and hope they don't catch us off-guard," I murmur. "We should go to Redcliffe. Once we nail my phylactery, we can vanish into the wilderness, never to be seen again. Change our names and move to Orlais, or something."

"Sounds like a plan," Jowan says softly.

We continue on toward Redcliffe, being extra careful now that we know there's so many templars nearby. Hunting us. Hunting _me_.

"I've put you in danger, Jowan. We should have split up after we left Lake Calenhad."

Jowan shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. You helped get me free. It's only fair that I return the favor."

We continue on in silence for a while, and then a thought comes to mind. "Jowan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you miss Lily?"

Jowan gives a nod, and sighs, looking to the ground. "I was kind of a fool, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you were," I say. Harsh, but kind of true.

"I was so in love with her," Jowan says. "Blinded. But then she rejected me without a second thought. She promised she'd stay with me forever, no matter what. At least I still have you."

"Well, I can't make up for a pretty girl, but at least I'm more useful to have around?"

"Hey, Lily wasn't useless," Jowan protests.

"Yeah, but she couldn't throw lightning bolts around."

"Hmm," Jowan says. "Okay, you do have a point, I suppose."

We finally make it to Redcliffe. But there are more templars waiting for us there. They seemed to suspect we were heading there.

"This isn't good," I murmur. "Why are there so many templars here?"

"Maybe they realize you've come for your phylactery."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," I say. "And I have no idea where it might be being stored. Damn."

"We could attack," Jowan suggests. "Knock out as many as we can with blood magic, find the phylactery and run while we can."

"That's your best plan?" I say, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Maker, that's pretty reckless and not at all subtle. I was thinking we could disguise ourselves and sneak into town. Looking for apostates is pretty easy if they all go around in robes anyway."

"I never thought of that."

I snort softly and punch him playfully in the shoulder. "Jowan, you're a good friend, you're loyal, you're a damned good mage. But Maker help me, if you were out here on your own, you'd have been caught by now, easily. Leave the planning to me from now on, okay?"

"Right." Jowan waits for me nearby, and I sneak in near the edge of town without being seen, and grab some laundry from a clothesline hanging by a house.

"Alright, here we go," I say. "Commoner clothing. We'll blend in better with this."

We get changed. The clothes are a little baggy on me, made for an adult male with more musculature than me, but it'll do.

"Hand me your staff and robe," I say.

He passes them over, giving me a questioning look, and I shove them into my bag of holding.

"Wha-- Where did they go?" Jowan wonders.

"I've got a magic bag that holds stuff," I explain.

"Really?" Jowan says. "I've never seen anything like that before. Where did you get it?"

"My mother gave it to me, years ago."

"Was your mother a mage, too?"

"Yeah," I say. "Both of my parents were powerful mages."

"Apostates?"

I chuckle softly, not really wanting to go into detail at the moment. "Now that, my friend, is a long story. Let's see if we can find that phylactery."

Commoner clothing and cheap hats. What a pathetic disguise. If I were a templar, I wouldn't be fooled for a moment.

"A bit too clean and orderly," I say. "We're supposed to be refugees. Let's dirty it up a bit."

I cut some tatters into our clothing with my knife, and we rub around some mud and dirt to complete the effect, and smear some more dirt upon our faces to make us harder to identify.

"Just remember, Jowan. Act natural. You have every right to be here. Don't go constantly glancing about wondering if anyone is staring at you. You think you can do that?"

"I can do that," Jowan assures me.

"Good. Let me know now if you can't, and I'll go into town by myself. No need for bravado. I just don't want to be given away."

We stroll into town directly under the gaze of the templars. They don't look twice at us. We're just another pair of travelers. Refugees escaping the Blight with only the clothes on our back. This is crazy. It was my plan in the first place, but I can't believe we just walked right past those templars.

Once inside town, we split up to go scouting around and cover more ground. If I were a templar, where might I keep the mage tracking devices? The ones in the Circle Tower were in a basement. Perhaps in the dungeon of the castle? Worth a shot. I head over that way to look around.

However, as I approach, I see the templars are starting to get suspicious at my behavior. Uh-oh.

"You there," a templar says. "Stop."

Stay calm. They won't recognize me. I have every right to be here. I put on my best country bumpkin accent and reply to them.

"What do you need, Ser Templar?" I ask.

The templar grabs my head and forces me to look up into his face. "That's him. The blood mage who escaped from the tower! I was told he had unnatural green eyes."

Gig's up. Well, at least they might not catch Jowan, this way.

"I'm no blood mage, Ser Templar!" I protest. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're not fooling us, maleficar. We traced you here with your phylactery. You're Lexen Chelseer, alright. Now, do you want to be executed back at the tower, or shall we do the deed right here?"

The Circle Tower might show me mercy, but I'm not willing to risk it. Time to fight.

"Fine," I say. "Let's dance."

Slice. Blood pours forth from my hand. Magic rushes through me. Even if I die here today, it was worth it for the incredible knowledge that I have gained.

"Blood magic!" the templar exclaims.

Templars go scattering. One of them goes flying off down the cliff and all the way into the lake. Raw destructive power. I don't know how many of them I kill, striking them down without mercy or drawing their lifeforce out of their bodies for my own use.

But they bring their antimagic abilities to bear down upon me, and I can't fight that. It's over, and I know it.

A templar sword slices open my gut. So much pain. Blood and gore pours out. Hurts. So much. I fall to my knees. I can't focus anymore.

I'm grateful when the pain fades away and leaves me in the calm mists of death again.

"Ouch, that looked like it had to suck," the annoying god-child Shazmar says, munching casually on popcorn. "And for a minute there, I thought you might even get away with it."

"Yeah," I say. "At least I took a fair number of them with me."

"You realize Jowan's not really going to get away, right? He's too much of an idiot to be subtle."

I snort softly in amusement. "I figured as much, but that's his problem now."

"So, Lexen," Shazmar says. "you made a mistake. Can you tell me where it was?"

"Let's see," I say. "Being too conspicuous when sneaking into where they had my phylactery? Running off with Jowan while they could still trace me? Helping Jowan in the first place?"

"I think you're onto something there," Shazmar says. "Now, go back and do it better this time. Don't let yourself get killed by those templars."


	4. Conscript

I'm walking Duncan to his room again.

"So, what brings a Grey Warden here, I'm wondering?" I ask Duncan. "Have there been problems with the darkspawn lately? I haven't heard any news of a new Blight beginning or anything."

"You are a perceptive young man," Duncan says. "Yes, I believe that a new Blight is just beginning."

"Then you must be here seeking recruits to combat it, I take it."

We discuss the Blight for a bit. Once Duncan arrives at his room, I head out and follow Jowan to meet Lily. It would probably work out better for me if I turned him in right now, but he's my friend and stayed loyal to the end, so I'm loath to do that. I'll try helping him again, and if I can't find some way to survive that, only then will I betray him.

Jowan destroys his phylactery and makes a break for it. I let him go. They still have my phylactery. He'll have a better chance of escaping on his own, so I let him go. And as for me, well, I'll just have to deal with my own problems.

Irving and the templars are recovering from Jowan's blood magic attack and surrounding me. I put my hands in the air in surrender.

"You!" Greagoir growls. "You helped a blood mage escape!"

"Now, now, Greagoir, calm down," Irving says. "Lexen has just had a moment of poor judgment..."

"Poor judgment!?" Greagoir exclaims. "How can you say that? He must be punished! And you, initiate. You should have known better. This is very disappointing."

Then, as if on cue, the Grey Warden, Duncan, appears on the scene, seeming to have heard every word. "I believe I may have a solution."

"Duncan, you don't mean to recruit this mage..." Greagoir says.

"I do," Duncan says. "This one has displayed the sort of skill and cunning, and willingness to go above and beyond what is expected of him in order to achieve his goals, that the Grey Wardens look for."

"I will not allow this," Greagoir says.

"Then I will invoke the Right of Conscription, if need be," Duncan says.

"What?" I say. "Me? A Grey Warden?"

"Pfah," Greagoir says. "Fine. Have it your way. But I want him out of the tower and out of my sight by sundown."

The templars take Lily away, and I'm allowed to return to my quarters for my belongings before I leave the tower with Duncan. It's kind of ironic, really. Moving out of this room on the same day that I moved into it. I'm not sure how I feel about becoming a Grey Warden, but I knew the risks when I decided to help my friend Jowan, so I must face the consequences of my actions, for good or ill.

"Well, Lexen, are you ready to go?" Duncan asks.

"Yes, sir. Let's get going."

We head outside the tower, and I look up at the sky. So open, bright, and clear. Even if I've been conscripted into a war I wasn't eager to fight, at least I'm free of this tower. Duncan and I cross the lake by boat and set off down the road.

"So, if I may ask, where are we going, sir?"

"We'll be traveling to a fostress called Ostagar, on the edge of the Korcari Wilds," Duncan replies. "There has been a great deal of darkspawn activity in that vicinity. We'll meet up with the King's army there."

"The Korcari Wilds?" I say. "That's a long way from here, isn't it?"

"About two weeks' journey."

"Why did you come all the way up here for a single new recruit, even if I am a mage?"

"We need every Grey Warden we can get in a time like this," Duncan says. "Ferelden's numbers have still not been replenished after being allowed to return recently. And a single mage can often turn the tide of a battle."

"I see," I say. "Well, that makes sense, I suppose. Well, I hope not to disappoint you, then. So can you tell me a bit more about the Grey Wardens on the way, then?"

"Certainly, Lexen. What do you want to know?"

"Well, could you tell me about mages in the Grey Wardens?" I ask. "I'm not going to be considered an apostate, I'm guessing."

Duncan chuckles softly and gives me a nod. "Mages in the Grey Wardens are allowed considerably more freedom than ones in the Circle of Magi, at the cost of having to fight the darkspawn. Even other restrictions that may be applied to mages are frequently waived in the name of killing darkspawn."

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like blood magic," Duncan says. "Any measures are considered acceptable if it is necessary to stop a Blight."

"I see," I say, somewhat relieved and amused. "Heh. Well, perhaps I should mention that I'm already a blood mage, then."

"Are you, now?" Duncan says. "Then you are also clearly good at discretion."

"Hmph. Certainly better at that than Jowan."

"You need not fear," Duncan says. "The Grey Wardens will allow you to continue to practice your magic for the purpose of killing darkspawn."

I give a nod. "I'll do whatever I can to help fight the darkspawn."

"That is all that can be asked of you."

"I'd also like to know, why did you pick me?" I ask. "Of all the mages in the tower. Not that I'm not grateful or anything, mind you."

"Grey Wardens recruit from all walks of life. Exiled princes, carta thugs, street thieves, disgraced nobles, even blood mages. You were in a tight situation, but unlike Jowan, you stood up to face the consequences of your actions, regardless of what they might be."


	5. Recruit

I've arrived at Ostagar. It isn't much to look at. Mostly just old ruins. It's a wonder any of them are still standing. But there's an army camped here, and a horde of darkspawn not far away in the Korcari Wilds.

"Duncan!" calls out a man in shiny gold armor. "Is this the promising new recruit you've told me about?"

Being greeted by the king of Ferelden himself is a little disconcerting, honestly. I know my family is descended from royalty, but the monarchy of Kedresida was abolished centuries ago.

"Yes, Your Majesty," I say. "I am Lexen Chelseer, at your service. I am honored to meet you." I give a respectful bow to the young man in golden armor.

"You are a mage, are you not?" King Cailan asks. "How are things in the Circle Tower?"

"Well, enough, Your Majesty. I'd just passed my Harrowing when Duncan recruited me."

"I'm certain you will be an asset to the Grey Wardens." Then King Cailan starts going on about the glorious battle ahead, and how he seems to expect that they will defeat the Blight then and there. Perhaps with him posing for a painting standing next to the slain body of the archdemon.

"Please forgive King Cailan," Duncan says. "He is young, and quite enthusiastic, but he means well."

"I have some thoughts on him, but I shall keep them to myself, as they would not be polite to speak aloud."

"That is for the best," Duncan says. "He is still our king, after all."

"Are we properly prepared to fight this battle?" I ask.

"It would be better if we were to wait for reinforcements, from Orlais, from Redcliffe. But King Cailan believes that we can defeat this horde with the army we have."

So in other words, he's a glory hound. "This strikes me as foolish."

"Such as it is, we must make do with the situation we have on hand."

I give a nod. No help for it.

Duncan directs me to locate three other new recruits, as well as another young Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. I set off to wander around camp, taking the chance to look around a bit. With the size of the army camped here, I have to wonder just how many darkspawn they expect to be fighting, especially considering Duncan's doubts that it would be sufficient.

I come across a beardless dwarf with a strange marking on his face, eating a hearty meal by himself. He looks up at me a little warily as I approach. He seems the type who is constantly tense, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"Hello. I'm Lexen Chelseer." I give him a quick bow.

"Rispy Brosca. You're the newest recruit?"

"That's me."

"Another human," Rispy says. "Ah, just as well. I'm kind of tired of the company of my own race at the moment."

"Why's that?" I wonder.

"Heh," Rispy says. "I'm guessing you don't know much about dwarven society, huh?"

"Can't say that I do," I say. "The only dwarves I've met were loners, far removed from it."

"Well, you see, the dwarves of Orzammar have different castes," Rispy explains. "Smiths, miners, warriors, whatnot. Your caste is always that of your same-sex parent. But any dwarf that commits some crime, even the crime of choosing to live on the surface, is stripped of their caste." He points to the marking on his cheek. "And they mark the casteless at birth to make sure we can never rise above our station."

"That... sounds like an awfully screwed up system."

"Heh, you're telling me," Rispy says.

"You know how I got recruited?," Rispy says. "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of hearing this story. It's a riot."

"Go ahead."

"Well, you see, in Orzammar, we have things called Provings. Warriors and nobles fight in the arena to show which of them is the best. Of course, being casteless, I wouldn't normally be allowed to participate. But I disguised in the armor of a dwarf of the Warrior Caste who was too busy being drunk to go to his fight."

"Heh," I say, grinning. "I can see where this is going."

"Yeah. I went into that arena and won fight after fight. But then right as I won the last fight, that drunk dwarf came out half-naked, and they realized that I wasn't him."

"Uh-oh."

"So they asked who I was, which house I belonged to. So I took off my helmet and showed them my face, and declared that I have no caste or house, but I've defeated the greatest of them. They were furious. It was a huge embarrassment for the Warrior Caste, and they were probably going to execute me and pretend that it never happened, but Duncan stepped in and conscripted me before they could."

"Heh. Duncan is great," I say. "He saved me like that, too. He seems to have a habit of being in the right place at the right time."

"Yeah," Rispy agrees. "He's an okay human. I never imagined being a Grey Warden. I was just fighting for survival at the bottom of a pit. And now that I'm out of that pit, I wonder why I never went to the surface before. It's not like the dwarves could possibly have thought any less of me."

"I never even had that option," I say. "I might have risked becoming an apostate to get out of that damned tower if I stayed in there much longer."

"So you're a mage, huh?" Rispy says. "I've never actually met a mage before. What's it like?"

"Oh, you know. Phenomenal cosmic power, constant risk of being possessed by demons or killed by templars because they thought you were a blood mage. That sort of thing."

"Hah," Rispy says with a smirk. "Sounds great."

I gather up the other two recruits, Daveth and Jory, and send them off to Duncan's campfire, and then meet up with Alistair. I find him antagonizing one of the mages at the camp.

"So, let me guess, you're Alistair?" I ask.

"That would be me. Are you the new recruit Duncan brought? You wouldn't happen to be another mage, would you?"

"I don't just wear this robe for the fashion statement, you know," I reply.

"Ah, why not?" Alistair says. "You could start a new trend among the nobles. It could be all the rage!"

"And then the templars would find it far more difficult to find the idiotic apostates who still insist in going around in mage robes."

"Heh," Alistair says. "You know I was trained as a templar, don't you?"

"No, Duncan didn't tell me that part," I reply.

"Ah. So now you can start hating me and casting me withering glares from across the camp like the rest of the mages here?"

"Why would I do that?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "I'd much rather just make snarky comments to your face. It's far more entertaining."

"I think I like you already," Alistair says. "You're an alright sort of mage."

"And you're an alright sort of templar."

Duncan sends us out into the wilds to collect four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each new recruit, and to look for a chest containing some old treaties that were at a remote outpost near here.

"If these treaties were so important, why did the Grey Wardens leave them out in the middle of nowhere?" I wonder.

"I imagine at the time, they were nothing more than formalities," Alistair says. "Who would refuse to help the Grey Wardens when asked? Of course, things are different now. The world's a much more cheerful and cooperative place."

"That's ever so reassuring," I say. "The fact that we're out looking for treaties does not bode well for Duncan's expectations of the upcoming battle."

As we collect the necessary darkspawn blood, I quickly grow increasingly irritated at Jory's attitude.

"This place is crawling with darkspawn," Jory says. "We're all going to die."

I strongly consider just killing him now and putting him out of his misery, rather than listening to his whining throughout my entire time with the Grey Wardens. Why did Duncan think that this guy would make a good Grey Warden? Was he really that desparate for recruits? This makes me feel somewhat less honored to have been chosen for this.

The others don't seem so bad, though. Alistair's great to have around for the humor. Rispy is driven, solid, and good in a fight. And Daveth is quick-witted and sneaky. Aside from Jory, I'd say we make a good team.

We come upon the ruins Duncan mentioned, but there's no treaties here. The chest where they might have been stored is broken and fallen to pieces. As Alistair examines the box, I spot a figure lurking nearby, and drop into an alert posture, ready to attack. To my surprise, it's a rather scantily clad woman, moving sleekly through the wilds like a cat.

"Who's there?" Rispy demands. "Show yourself!"

"She must be a Witch of the Wilds," Daveth says. "I've heard stories about them."

"My, my," the woman says. "Such impolite intruders into my wilds."

" _Your_ wilds?" I wonder. "Just who are you, anyway?"

"I believe I could ask that of you as well. But I shall be polite. I am Morrigan. And who might you be?"

"I'm Lexen Chelseer."

"Now tell me, what is your interest in such things that have lain forgotten for so long?"

"We're here looking for some old documents," I reply. "Grey Warden treaties. I don't suppose you'd know what happened to them, Morrigan?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. My mother took them."

"Very well. Perhaps you could take us to your mother, then, Morrigan?"

"She's a witch!" Jory says. "She'll kill us all! She'll make stew out of us!"

"If you were so worried about it, Jory, perhaps you should have stayed at home," I say, rolling my eyes.

Morrigan leads us off through the wilds to a small hut that we never would have noticed just wandering around on our own.

"So, Morrigan, you've brought guests!" says an old woman.

"Greetings. madam," I say. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

I give a bow toward the old woman. Whether she's some Witch of the Wilds or just some old hag who talks too much, it never hurts to be polite and make a good impression.

"Ah, manners?" the old woman says. "How unexpected."

"It costs me nothing to be polite, madam," I say.

"Perhaps so," she says.

"This was a bad idea," Jory says. "We never should have come here. She's an evil witch!"

"Oh? So you think you know everything about me?" the old woman says. "But we just met! Haha."

"If she's a witch, we shouldn't make her angry," Daveth says.

"Witch or not, I don't think we should trust her too readily," Alistair says.

"I don't care what she is, I just want what we came for and to get out of this wilderness," Rispy says.

The old woman laughs again and looks to me. "And what do you think? You're a mage, are you not? Does your magical skill give you a different perspective?"

"I know enough not to take for granted anything I see or hear," I reply. "Rumors can be exaggeration, perceptions can be illusion, and even the truth may only be one piece of the puzzle."

"Ah, there's what I was hoping for. An open mind is a rare and valuable thing. Now, here are those treaties you were looking for. I have kept them safe and undamaged."

"You have my gratitude, and that of the Grey Wardens as well, no doubt," I say.

"And tell your Grey Wardens that the threat of this Blight is more than they realize."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rispy wonders.

"What does it mean?" the old woman says. "Either the threat is more or they realize less, which is it? Or is the threat nothing and they know nothing?"

I've also long since learned not to underestimate those who give cryptic advice like this. "It means she knows more than she's letting on, but she's not going to come out and explain it to us, because that would make things too easy. I can't say I really blame her. I don't care to try to explain things to people who aren't going to understand anyway, myself. You'll notice that I've mostly been ignoring Jory."

"Hey!" Jory protests.

The old woman cackles in amusement, and looks to me appraisingly. "I'd say there is more to you than you are letting on, as well. Perhaps you might even know more than me. Who knows? Haha."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not," I say vaguely. "But, much as I'd love to stay and exchange cryptic remarks with you, we really must be getting back to camp."

"Of course, of course. Morrigan, show them the way back, would you?"

"Yes, mother, if I must."

Morrigan leads us away from the hut and back through the wilds, and departs when we're in sight of Ostagar again. Once she's out of sight, Rispy turns and gives me a hard look.

"What was that all about?" Rispy asks. "Are you keeping secrets from us?"

"Doesn't everyone?" I reply. "I'd imagine there's plenty about the rest of you that I don't know, either. Besides, I'm a mage. What do you expect?"

"I wouldn't know," Rispy says. "I haven't known any mages before. There aren't exactly a lot of them in Orzammar."

We return to Ostagar and present the blood and scrolls to Duncan.

"Ah, good, you're back," Duncan says. "Did you run into any difficulties obtaining these?"

"Aside from the mysterious old woman who had taken the treaties, no, not really," Alistair says.

"Now, now, Alistair, you can worry about apostates at another time," Duncan says.

"I think whether or not she was a mage is the least of our concerns," Rispy says with a smirk. "She knew more than she was willing to tell us, and said to tell you that there's a greater threat to this Blight than you realize. I don't know what she meant by that, but it can't be anything good."

"No matter," Duncan says. "We must prepare for the Joining ritual."

"Is this going to be dangerous?" Jory asks.

"Will you relax already?" Rispy says in exasperation. "If you're so worried about it, there's a nice, convenient cliff over there I can push you off of instead. You might _not_ break all the bones in your body when you land."

"I'll be honest with you," Duncan says. "We all must pay a price to become Grey Wardens, and fate may dictate that you pay your price now, rather than later."

It takes a bit more time to prepare the blood we brought back for the ritual, during which I notice Rispy spending a lot of time hanging around the kennels.

"I didn't know you had a thing for dogs, Rispy," I say.

"Oh, hello, Lexen. Well, there was this sick dog who had consumed darkspawn blood. The kennel master wanted me to bring back some flower from the wilds to help cure her. The dog's been doing much better now."

"That's awfully nice of you, Rispy."

"Hah, don't think too magnanimously of me," Rispy says, chuckling. "I just wanted a mabari war hound of my very own. I'm thinking of naming her after my mother."


	6. Grey Warden

It's just after sunset a week after my arrival in Ostagar that we're called together for the Joining ritual. We're taken to a quiet part of the ruins, that might have once been an old temple of some sort.

"Join us, brothers and sisters," Alistair says. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

We're to drink a specially prepared mixture of darkspawn blood and lyrium, along with one drop of blood from the previous archdemon.

Daveth is handed the cup first. He drinks, but the results are clearly not what Duncan was hoping for. He collapses to the ground, choking and spasming as his body violently rejects the Joining potion.

"I'm sorry, Daveth," Duncan says.

Jory panicks at the sight of this. "No, no, I don't want to die. You can't make me do this. I have a wife, a baby!"

"Jory, you whine more than a noble whose clothes aren't perfect," Rispy says. "You still don't want to take me up on the offer of the cliff?"

Jory ignores Rispy, and pulls out his sword to fend off Duncan.

"Okay, so you're an idiot on top of a coward," Rispy says. "Way to go, Jory."

Duncan pulls out his own blade and easily parries Jory's attacks before skewering the man through the torso. "I'm sorry, Jory."

"By the Stone, Daveth was a pity, but that was just the saddest sight I've ever seen," Rispy says. "Am I up next?"

"Step forward, Rispy," Duncan says.

Rispy doesn't hesitate to take his place and drink from the goblet. He collapses after a moment, but he's quiet and still, rather than coughing and twitching.

"He will be fine when he wakes," Duncan says. "Step forward, Lexen."

I'm a little nervous about this, myself. This might just kill me. But at least it will probably be a quick death, rather than something painful and protracted, if Daveth was any indication. He didn't suffer for long.

I take a hold of the goblet and drink. It's quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted. Darkness takes me.

Images flash through my mind. Roiling lava. Darkspawn. A huge dragon, seemingly looking straight at me for a moment and letting out a piercing shriek.

I wake up panting a bit, and blinking at the horrific vision that I just experienced.

"Welcome, Rispy and Lexen," Duncan says. "You are now Grey Wardens."

"Two more deaths... sacrifices must be made sometimes, but it's never pretty," Alistair says. "Did you have dreams, Lexen, Rispy? I had terrible ones after my Joining."

"Yeah... I saw... darkspawn, hordes of them," Rispy says.

"And a dragon," I add.

"The archdemon," Duncan says. "That's how we Grey Wardens know that this truly is a Blight."

"Are we going to be seeing that a lot?" Rispy asks.

"It's particularly bad during a Blight," Duncan says. "Some of the older Grey Wardens are actually capable of understanding the archdemon, to an extent."

"But not us?" I ask.

"It'll take some time before you are able to suppress the dreams and keep the taint under control, never mind glean anything more useful from your connection to the darkspawn than simply sensing their presence."

"I, for one, will be happy with settling for killing as many of them as I can find. I'd hope that there won't still be an archdemon around for that to matter by the time I get old enough for that sort of thing."

"True," Duncan says. "If we're lucky, we may be able to end the Blight here before it really begins. But if luck is not on our side, the Blight may yet rage on for years..."

* * *

I decide to go back and see if I can prevent a needless death or two. I'm not a time traveler for nothing. I shouldn't just let them die pointlessly if I can do something about it. Well, I'm not too sorry about Jory, as he's kind of an idiot, but Daveth is a great guy and deserves better than that.

"Duncan, can I speak with you for a moment?" I ask. "In private?"

"Yes, of course, Lexen, what is it?"

"About the Joining ritual."

"I'm afraid I can't answer your questions about it just yet," Duncan says. "This is one of our closely guarded secrets."

"Yeah, it involves drinking a potion concocted from lyrium and darkspawn blood with a drop of blood from the last archdemon. That's what allows resistance to the darkspawn taint, and grants the ability to sense the darkspawn."

Duncan looks at me with clear surprise. "How did you find all this out? Alistair didn't tell you that, did he?"

I shake my head. "It's something of a long story. But, that's not what's important right now. I know that not everyone survives the Joining ritual. Not everyone's body is compatable with the taint, or strong enough to handle it."

"This is also true," Duncan says. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now?"

"Not at all. I know I'll survive the Joining, as will Rispy. Daveth and Jory, however, won't make it."

"There's no way you could know that," Duncan says.

"Can you be certain of that?" I say. "What if I do have a way? What if I knew some blood magic test that made me absolutely certain that what I say is true?"

Duncan frowns and furrows his brow, looking intent and thoughtful.

"I already know more than you thought I would have any way of knowing," I say. "You can question Alistair and the other Grey Wardens if you like -- none of them told me this."

"You'll forgive me if I find this a little hard to accept," Duncan says.

"I understand," I say. "As a Grey Warden, though, you should be used to dealing with strange things. And to be perfectly honest with you... I'm not just some normal mage that's been locked in a tower all my life, either."

"So I'm starting to see. But you still clearly don't wish to tell me how you know all this. It is not my place to go delving into your secrets, however. I will take you at your word."

I'm relieved, and Duncan doesn't fail to miss my expression and release of tension.

Duncan says. "I might be more skeptical if you were making these claims for your own sake, but as it is, there's nothing you could possibly gain from lying to me about something like this."

"However, it does stand that they know more than they ought to. It is not normally done for recruits to be allowed to back out this close to the Joining."

"I'd suggest sending Jory home or putting him with the regular army. Honestly, he'd make a terrible Grey Warden even if he would survive. He'd probably get cold feet right before facing the archdemon."

"You may have a point there," Duncan admits. "But what of Daveth? He is a criminal and it was only conscripting him that spared him from being hanged."

"He could still be useful," I say. "Does anyone have to know that he didn't actually go through with the Joining?"

"Since only Grey Wardens are allowed at the ritual, it would be easy enough to claim that he is a member even without that. But what of him? There would be nothing to stop him from trying to desert, and it would be dangerous for him to be fighting darkspawn without that protection."

"I'd think uncertain death later would be preferable to certain death now," I say. "And haven't the Grey Wardens had allies who fought with them who weren't actually technically members of the order?"

"This is true," Duncan says. "For the sake of defeating the darkspawn, the Grey Wardens will not shirk aid from any source."

"I'm certain that Daveth will be an invaluable asset even if he isn't a true Grey Warden."

"Very well," Duncan says with a nod. "We shall inform Daveth and Jory of the change in plans right away."

Jory is called in first. "What's going on? More tests? Have I not done enough already? Haven't I proven myself worthy yet?"

"Jory, the question is not of your worth but of your body's inherent compatability with the ritual required to become a Grey Warden."

"What?" Jory says.

Technically, I can't be certain that Jory _wouldn't_ survive if he had a chance to drink the blood himself, but he'd still be an awful Grey Warden anyway, so I bend the truth a little on that one.

"You would be unable to survive the Joining," Duncan explains. "I'm sorry, Jory, but this is for the best."

"After all that?" Jory says incredulously.

"You can still fight, if you want," I say. "There's plenty of regular soldiers and knights around here. You just can't  
become a Grey Warden."

"I'm going to have to swear you to secrecy not to reveal what you know already. Then, you may join the king's army or return home if you wish."

Jory swears in Andraste's name, and then goes off to join up with the army.

Daveth comes into the tent next. "Oy, you need something, Duncan?"

"Yes, Daveth, I must speak with you about the Joining ritual."

"Is there a problem?" Daveth asks

"This is an unusual situation, so bear with me for a moment while I explain," Duncan says.

"Lexen has informed me that your body is physically incompatable with the Joining ritual. Up until this point, we have not had any way of knowing this beforehand, and so we've lost a number of potential recruits because of it."

"Wait, so you mean I can't be a Grey Warden?" Daveth says.

"We cannot technically make you a Grey Warden," Duncan replies. "However, it would be irresponsible and wasteful at this point to turn you loose to be hanged as a criminal. So I propose that, publicly, you be known as a Grey Warden, and only those who are actually in the know will realize you have not gone through the ritual."

"You can do that?"

"We never have before, but as I said, this is an unusual situation, and I trust Lexen's judgment. You would still be vulnerable to the darkspawn taint, but you will have the chance to kill many more darkspawn than you would if you simply died during the Joining."

"Understood," Daveth says. "I'll do whatever it takes to help stop the Blight, whether I'm technically a Grey Warden or not."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Duncan says. "The only ones who will know that you have not completed the joining will be myself, Lexen, Alistair, and Rispy."

"What about Jory?" Daveth asks. "What's happening with him?"

"He's also not compatable with the ritual, but we've sent him off to the regular army instead."

"I see," Daveth says. "Well, you have my thanks for the opportunity to serve, in whatever capacity."

We make ready to go through the Joining. At least I don't have to be nervous, myself. I know that I'll survive the Joining, even if the process is a little unpleasant. Rispy and I drink from the cup of blood while Daveth stands by watching, and Duncan proclaims us to be Grey Wardens.

"And you, Daveth," Duncan says. "You are now, also, a Grey Warden."

"Thanks for letting me be here, even if you couldn't let me actually go through with it."

"So far as anyone outside this small group knows, you did. Let's keep it that way."


	7. Torchbearer

Another week passes. There's a few more minor skirmishes, but the main thrust of the horde clearly hasn't arrived yet. Tension runs high as tactics are debated and strategies are planned, and the movements of the darkspawn are tracked by the Grey Wardens.

"We'll need to light this beacon to signal my men to charge," Loghain says.

"We should send Alistar and the new Grey Wardens up to do it," Cailan suggests.

"You rely too much upon this decrepit order," Loghain says.

I don't really trust Loghain. Looking like Professor Snape doesn't really help matters any, either.

"You don't want us fighting in the battle?" I ask.

"I think your skills would be better put to use here," Cailan says. "This job is very important, and I want to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"As you say, Your Majesty," I say. "I'll take a squad comprised of the junior Grey Wardens up to light the beacon, then."

"This Grey Warden is a mage!" a priest protests. "You can't trust him to do this!"

"The other new Grey Wardens are not mages," I point out. "I'm just here for support."

"And yet they seem to defer to you," the priest says. "Why is that? Are you controlling their minds with blood magic?"

"Please, calm down," Duncan says. "We all need to work together for this battle. I assure you that Lexen's talents will be put solely toward fighting the darkspawn. If any slip past the front lines, his spells will be needed to clear the way."

This seems to mollify the priest a bit, for the moment, but she still continues to glare at me as if I'm about to turn into an abomination at any moment. I go to inform my impromptu junior Grey Warden squad of our duties.

"We're not going to fight in the battle?" Alistair asks, sounding disappointed.

"King Cailan thinks our skills are better spent elsewhere, apparently," I say.

"If getting this beacon lit is that important, it's prudent of him to send ones he thinks he can trust to do it," Rispy says.

"He's got a good point, I reckon," Daveth says. "If I were them darkspawn, I'd want to sneak around behind to screw with our plans, too."

The battle has begun. We set off for the Tower of Ishal. Rispy's new mabari hound, now named Kalah, is with us as well, having recovered from its illness under the care of the kennel master.

As we're approaching the tower, I spot dark figures moving around outside. "Darkspawn... Damnit."

The tower has been overwhelmed by darkspawn already. We fight our way through with blade and spell, felling darkspawn left and right.

"How did they all get in here?" Alistair wonders.

"Look, there's a hole in the floor here," I point out. "They must have come in through tunnels underneath the tower. I think I can still sense some from below."

"I'm sensing darkspawn all over the place," Rispy says. "The upper floors are probably swarming with them by now. Let's get killing."

We climb the tower, dispatching darkspawn as we go.

"Oy, we're not gonna be getting out of here easy, either," Daveth says. "They're gonna be filling up the floors right behind us."

As we come up the final flight of stairs at the top of the tower, I hear an ominous munching sound from up ahead. A huge horned form turns toward us and roars at those who interrupted its meal.

"An ogre!" Alistair cries.

I rain a storm of lightning down upon the creature, causing it to stumble in its charge. My companions rush forth to take advantage of the opening to attempt to finish off the ogre before it can recover.

I attack the enemy with spells, but it's not good enough. The ogre comes right up into my face and picks me up like a rag doll.

Ack. He's crushing me. I can't breathe. This monster is going to just squeeze and shake the life out of me.

I try to cast magic, but I can't concentrate. Not like this. Not with this sort of pain.

There's a jolt, and I'm dropped to the ground again. Alistair slammed his shield into the ogre to distract it and make it let go of me. I gasp for breath and scramble to my feet again.

"Thanks, Alistair."

Enough of this. I slice open my hand and wrack the monster's body with blood magic, drawing out its lifeforce and killing it as quickly as I can. Between my magic and the blades of my companions, the ogre falls.

"Blood magic?" Alistair says, looking at me with a touch of shock and incredulity."

"Didn't want to give that _thing_ a chance to do anything else," I reply. "Anything for the sake of fighting the darkspawn."

"This is true," Alistair says. "I just hadn't realized you were a blood mage. You don't really seem the type."

I snicker softly. "Yeah, I don't exactly spend all my time cackling madly and eating babies or anything, do I."

"We've wasted enough time hacking through all these darkspawn," Rispy says. "Let's get that beacon lit. It might already be too late."

Alistair rushes over to light the beacon, even as more darkspawn start pouring up the stairs after us.

"There's too many of them!" Daveth says.

"Darkspawn all over the place!" Rispy says. "Let's see how many of these blighters we can take out before they can bring us down!"

Before I know it, we're overwhelmed. There's too many for us. I'm wounded, pierced by many arrows.

No escape-- Looks like this is the end. Bleeding and coughing, I collapse. Darkness overcomes my mind.

But the expected bright mists of death do not come. I blink as I come to. I'm in a hut? How did I get here?

"Ah, you are awake at last," says a young woman.

"Where am I? ... Morrigan?" I say numbly.

"You remembered," Morrigan says. "I'm impressed."

"You are back in the wilds, at my mother's hut," Morrigan explains. "You should thank her. She rescued you and your fellow Grey Wardens from the top of that tower."

"The darkspawn... there were so many of them..."

"Your companions are already awake, and waiting for you outside," Morrigan says. "You had a rougher time of it than them, and I daresay I thought you were not to make it, but we have healed you."

"You have my thanks, Morrigan." I give her a polite bow before heading outside.

Alistair is standing, staring off at the water wistfully, as if lost in his own thoughts. Rispy sits nearby, tending to his weapons absently. Daveth is taking a nap next to the side of the hut. She had even, apparently, rescued Rispy's dog, who is sprawled out in the dirt, panting.

"There you are, Lexen," Rispy says. "You got hit in the head pretty bad, eh?"

"I'm not exactly eager to repeat the experience, that's for sure," I say. "How long was I out?"

"Not really much longer than the rest of us," Rispy says. "The old woman refused to tell us anything until you came to." Rispy goes over and nudges Daveth awake with his boot. "So, now that we're all here, care to explain just what happened?"

"Rispy, be polite," I say. "We do owe our lives to her, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, I suppose," Rispy says. "I just don't like being kept in the dark."

"The darkspawn won your battle," the old woman says. "The man who was to come to the king's aid decided to ignore your signal."

"What?" Alistair says in shock. "Loghain betrayed the king? What about Duncan, and the other Grey Wardens?"

"Dead, all of them, I'm afraid."

"By the Paragons..." Rispy breathes.

"This is terrible news!" Alistair cries.

"I can't believe it," Daveth says. "It weren't supposed to go like this."

"So that means we're the last of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden," I say.

"What are we going to do now?" Alistair wonders.

"Stop the Blight, of course," Rispy says. "By any means necessary."

"But how?" Alistair says. "We don't even have an army anymore!"

"We have those old Grey Warden treaties Duncan had us retrieve," I say. "He must have known something like this might happen."

"And we could go ask Arl Eamon for help," Alistair says suddenly. "He was the king's uncle. He'll surely have something to say about Loghain's betrayal."

"Is this really a good idea?" Rispy asks. "I'm not so eager to go back to Orzammar."

I say, "I'm just dying to go back to the Circle Tower, myself, but I suppose it can't be helped."

"Now, I might be mistaken, but it sounds like you could gather an army yourselves," the old woman points out.

"Well, first things first," Rispy says. "With the other Grey Wardens dead, we'll need to decide on who will lead us now."

I say, "The obvious choice is Alistair, since he has the most experience with being a Grey Warden."

"Don't look at me, "Alistair says. "I don't want to lead. I'd prefer to just follow what the rest of you want to do."

"Fine," Rispy says. "I say we follow Lexen, then."

"My vote's for Lexen as well," Daveth adds.

"Lexen _would_ make a good leader," Alistair says.

"Very well," I say. "But you have to do whatever I say, no matter how weird it may sound."

"Fine by me," Rispy says.

"Of course," Daveth says,

"Alright, but I draw the line at personal favors," Alistair says.

I give a nod. If I can have their absolute trust, I may be able to accomplish something here. I'm not entirely certain what all I might yet encounter, but this may well require a delicate balance, and being in the right place at the right time. And I prefer to make my own luck.

"Before you boys run off to be Grey Wardens, there is one more thing I have to give you," says the old woman.

Morrigan comes out of the house. "The pot is boiling, mother. Will we be having guests for dinner?"

"Do you have to say it like that?" Daveth says, making a face.

"Ah, and here she is now," says the old woman. "I'm sending my daughter along to accompany you."

"I'll appreciate any assistance we can get, but what does Morrigan think of that?" I ask.

"I... what?" Morrigan says in surprise.

"Oh, it'll be a good experience for you, dear child. Get out and see the world."

"Mother! Have I no say in this?"

"Not to complain, but will this really help?" Alistair says. "We don't need trouble with the templars on top of the darkspawn."

"Would you have prefered being left on top of that tower, rather than being rescued by us illegal mages?" the old woman asks him.

"Point taken."

"Besides, Grey Wardens generally don't refuse aid against the darkspawn, no matter the source, right?" I say.

"That's true," Alistair admits.

Morrigan sighs in resignation. "Very well. I will pack my things."

"Oy, at least she's nice to look at, even if she is a witch," Daveth comments.

Morrigan returns shortly with her possessions.

"So, where are we going first?" Alistair wonders.

"I can guide you to a village on the edge of the wilds called Lothering," Morrigan says.

"That sounds like a good place to start," I say. "Let us be off, then."


	8. Murderer

Since I'm a time traveler, maybe I should go back and do something about Loghain, before he can betray us. I decide to pay Loghain a visit. Time to deal with this would-be traitor before he can get this entire army slaughtered.

"Excuse me," I say to the guard outside of Loghain's tent. "I have an important message for Teyrn Loghain. May I go in?"

"Do you? Just a moment." The guard disappears into the tent for a moment, and then emerges with Loghain himself.

"Yes, what is it?" Loghain says with a touch of impatience in his voice.

"This is a rather sensitive matter," I say. "Can we speak inside?"

Loghain looks about suspiciously enough that I have to wonder if he's afraid of someone seeing something in his tent. "I suppose. Come in, but make it quick. There is much to be done."

We go inside the tent, and I cast a quick spell to ensure that no sound will be heard outside. Loghain raises an eyebrow at my precautions.

"What was that spell?" Loghain asks.

"Privacy spell," I explain. "And I'm sure you'll realize in a moment why I don't want this to be overheard."

"Speak, then."

"I know that you intend to pull the army out in the midst of battle and leave King Cailan and the Grey Wardens to perish."

"What? That's preposterous." But the clear look of alarm on his face makes it obvious that this was not a spontaneous decision.

"It's not in question," I say. "What I want to know is why? Cailan may be something of an idiot, but what about you? Do you really think that this is the best thing for Ferelden in the midst of a Blight?"

"I refuse to answer your accusations, but I will say that we e don't need Grey Wardens, and we especially don't need Orlesians, in order to defend Ferelden."

"That may be so, but is splitting the country in a time of war really a good idea?" I say. "I don't care to argue with you about underestimating Grey Wardens, nor their special abilities to assist in combating darkspawn."

"If something unfortunate were to happen to Cailan, the country would rally around her queen gladly."

"Can you be so certain of that?" I ask. "You are also underestimating this Blight."

"This isn't even a true Blight," Loghain says. "Only Cailan wishes it to be so, to appease his thirst for glory."

"Do you really think that?" I press. "Would you feel the fool, then, were the archdemon itself to show up on your doorstep?"

"There is no archdemon, and I tire of this conversation."

"Can you be certain of that?" I say. "What will you tell your countrymen when the darkspawn sweep across the land and destroy their homes, when _we could have avoided all this_?"

"Enough!" Loghain roars. "Begone, and take your wild speculation with you!"

"I'm sorry, Loghain. But this is for the good of Ferelden."

With one swift movement, I slice open my palm. I wince involuntarily, and Loghain hisses at the sight.

"Blood magic!" Loghain's eyes widen in alarm.

"Goodbye, Loghain."

He barely has a chance to draw out a blade before I'm drawing out his lifeforce. He crumples to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Lightning shoots from my fingertips and strikes him down, electrocuting him before he even has a chance to try to fight back.

I carefully lift his body into his cot and pull up the sheets, arranging it as though he were asleep. Then I cancel the silence enchantment and leave the tent.

Now it'll just remain to be seen if I can get away with it. It's not long before someone discovers that Loghain is dead. And an even shorter time after that to discover that he was killed by magic. Naturally, a group of soldiers comes to arrest me quite promptly.

"This man is one of mine," Duncan says. "What are you accusing him of?"

"We have discovered that Teyrn Loghain lies dead, and slain by magic. This mage was the last person to have seen him alive! The Maker will demand justice for this crime!"

I was afraid of this.

"He--" Duncan begins.

"No, Duncan. Don't try to defend me. I am guilty." I place my hands together and bow my head.

"He even admits it! How shameless!"

"I knew it. I bet this was all some Grey Warden plot, too."

"No," I say. "They knew nothing about this. But believe me when I say that this is for the best, even if it means my life."

"Lexen?" Duncan says. "Why have you done this?"

"To save King Cailan and all of Ferelden from Loghain's betrayal."

"That's ridiculous," the soldier says. "Teyrn Loghain would never betray Ferelden!"

"Would it help if I said that I'm a blood mage and/or abomination and I've been waiting for this opportunity ever since I left the Circle Tower? Would you even be able to figure out whether either of those is true or not?"

"Lexen, what's going on here?" Duncan wonders.

"I'm making the world a better place, even if I don't get to live to see it," I reply. "Not that I was planning on going down without a fight, so if anyone doesn't want to get hurt, please don't stand in front of me."

Surrender isn't in my vocabulary. I call forth lightning and energy and sweep a path through anyone that stands in my way, but it's the templars that eventually take me down. Damn their anti-mage powers. I'm going to find a way around that one of these days, I swear.

So by templar swords, I fall, bleeding my life out on the muddy ground.

"Sorry, Duncan," I murmur as the world fades away.

"What was that all about?" Shazmar wonders. "Was that really the best you could do?"

"I guess so," I tell the godling child.

"I'm disappointed in you, Lexen, really. What happened to that charismatic tongue of yours, being able to persuade anyone of anything?"

"It failed on me this time, I suppose," I say.

"Maybe you'd have had better luck if you knew more about the situation to throw in his face. Or just, you know, could mind control him and be done with it."

"Yeah, I'll just have to do something else for the moment, I suppose," I say. "But at least I hope that timestream now has a better future ahead of it."

"Oh, yeah," Shazmar says dryly. "It can look forward to many more years being ruled by an idiot. Duncan still gets his ass handed to him by an ogre, though. Mentor figures never survive these things."

I smirk at him.

"Anyway, off with you," Shazmar says. "Go back and do something less precipitous."


	9. Leader

The trip to Lothering is about a week's journey north through the Korcari Wilds.

"So, Lexen," Alistair says. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"The fact that you're a blood mage."

"What about it?" I ask. "Does it bother you?"

"Well, of course it bothers me!" Alistair replies.

"You agreed to follow me anyway, though."

"Well, yes, but I mainly just didn't care to disagree."

"That's not a very good reason. Look, Alistair, if you have a problem, say so. So long as we're not in the middle of a crisis, anyway, obviously."

"Considering how recently you were recruited, you must have been a blood mage before you ever left the Circle of Magi."

"Yes," I say. "I've been a blood mage for longer than you would believe."

"So, why?" Alistair asks. "What's so appealing about it that you'd risk it?"

"It's useful," I reply with a shrug. "I'm not going to refuse any weapon I have at my disposal just because some are squeamish about that. And I'm using it to fight the darkspawn. I was told that the Grey Wardens have more leeway with that than Circle Mages."

"Well, yes, this is true..." Alistair admits. "I'm still uneasy about this, though."

"Do you trust me?" I ask.

"What?"

"Alistair, do you trust me?" I press.

"Well, yeah, I suppose so..."

"Then don't worry about it," I say. "You're a fellow Grey Warden, Alistair, and furthermore, I like you. I'd be far more inclined to use my blood magic to help you than to harm you. Alright."

"Fine," Alistair says, throwing up his hands. "Alright. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, don't worry about that," I say. "If there's a problem, I want to know so it can be resolved. To do otherwise invites disaster."

"I still say there may be problems from traveling with an apostate," Alistair says.

"Worst case scenerio, they might consider me an apostate too," I point out. "Besides, I doubt anyone's going to notice her."

"What makes you say that?" Alistair asks.

"She's not wearing a robe."

Alistair snorts. "Robes aren't the _only_ things templars look for, you know."

"Anything else will require her to be staying in one place for longer than I plan to, or an amazing lack of discretion that would require more stupidity than I would attribute to her."

"I _know_ how to avoid attention from the templars, you know," Morrigan puts in.

"Fine, fine," Alistair says. "How much further is it?"

"Still a few days away," Morrigan replies. "Do you need to stop for a potty break?"

"Argh! No!"

Mercifully, we finally arrive in Lothering. It's a quaint town, not much to look at, and appears to have more refugees swarming about it than it has buildings to put them in. A veritable metropolis of refugee tents fills the valley approaching the village proper.

Rispy comments, "If all these people fleeing the Blight were capable of fighting back, the darkspawn would have a much tougher time making any progress."

"Not everyone is capable of being a warrior, Rispy," I say.

"I know," Rispy says. "Just seems to me like humans are often pretty soft."

As we head down into the village, a guard at the gates stops us with a raised hand. "I must warn you, there's no more room in the village for refugees."

"We're not refugees, and we're just passing through," I say. "Don't mind us. Although if anyone still has goods and are selling, we've got some coin we'll part with."

"Ah, aye, there's still a merchant or two in town," says the guard. "One's parked out near the Chantry, can't miss him."

Indeed I can't, nor do I miss the argument he's currently having with a priest, who seems to think that he should be giving away his goods for free to the needy.

"Are you open, or should I come back another time?" I ask.

"Ah, a customer! Welcome! Would you be interested in making a small profit helping out a beleaguered businessman?"

"That would depend on what you want me to do," I ask.

"Could you get this priest to go away?" the merchant says. "She's been hounding me all day, and she's driving away my customers."

"Andraste's knickers, she must be annoying if you're willing to pay someone just to tell her to go away," I reply.

"Indeed so," the man agrees.

"This evil man is draining the lifeblood of our community!" the priest says. "He charges outrageous prices for things people desparately need!"

I snort softly. "Isn't it the Chantry's job to be a charity? I'm very impressed with the Chantry that they apparently need to resort to threatening legitimate businessmen, now. What next, are you going to think that I might have some coin and try to shake me down for a donation like a common thug?"

She sputters for a moment. "What!? This is-- this is-- May you both get what you deserve! I'm leaving!" The priest storms back off toward the Chantry.

"Hah!" the merchant laughs. "You told her good. Here you go, I always believe in people getting what they deserve, and you've earned this."

"And a discount," I add.

"Certainly, but only for you."

I take the opportunity to stock up on some supplies for traveling. Food, bedrolls, tents. We didn't really have time in Ostagar to prepare for an extended journey across the kingdom. With our packs considerably more full, we head on across the bridge and through town.

The sound of an unfamiliar language catches my attention, and I spot a cage containing a man of a race I have never seen before. He's taller than most men, and has a gray cast to his skin.

"Another human come to mock my plight and throw stones at me?" he asks.

"No," I reply. "Why would I do that?"

"Ask that question of the others of your kind who have done so."

I scowl. "Why are you in that cage?"

"I have commited a crime," he replies. "For that, I am locked up."

"What did you do?" I ask.

"I killed people."

"I see," I say. "So, are you a warrior?"

"Yes," he says.

"Would you rather be out of that cage and help us fight the darkspawn, rather than being left to die?"

"Darkspawn?" he says. "Are you a... Grey Warden, then?"

"We are Grey Wardens, yes," I say.

He looks at myself and my companions appraisingly. "Even my people have heard legends of the prowess of the Grey Wardens. It seems not all legends are true."

I smirk at him.

"Regardless, I doubt that your Chantry would be willing to release me, even for that," he says.

"I'll see what I can do," I say. "I can be pretty persuasive."

I head back on over toward the Chantry. I dislike setting foot in these places, but there's no help for it sometimes. Trying to mask my unease, I step inside. On the way in, Alistair recognizes a knight and goes over to talk to him. I leave him to that and head to the back to speak with the Revered Mother.

"You look as though you have done better than most of the poor, hapless souls who have come here. Would you care to make a tithe to the Chantry?" she asks.

I don't really care to antagonize her when I need to convince her to help me, so I just write it off in my mental budget as a bribe and pass over a handful of silver."

"Maker smile upon you, child," the Revered Mother says. "Now, what is it that you need?"

"I came to speak with you about the man in the cage."

"The Qunari murderer?" she says. "What of him? Surely you don't wish him set free. He is a monster."

"I am the leader of the surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and I could use his assistance to fight the darkspawn," I reply.

Her face darkens at my words, and I wonder if I have said something wrong. "A Grey Warden? Oh dear. You put me in a difficult position, young man."

"Is there a problem, Revered Mother?" I ask.

"Are you aware that Teyrn Loghain has declare your order to be criminals, and put a bounty on any surviving Grey Wardens?" the Revered Mother says. "He says that you are responsible for the death of the king."

"What?" I say, blinking. "King Cailan loved the Grey Wardens. How would killing him benefit us?"

"I do not believe that the Grey Wardens would be so careless or bloodthirsty as to do such a thing, but be that as it may, I cannot offer you official aid. Unofficially..." She pulls out a key and hands it over to me. "You may take that creature away from here, if it will be of use to you in defeating the darkspawn. I release him into your custody. Good luck to you, Grey Warden. May the Maker guide your steps."

"Thank you, Revered Mother." I bow to her respectfully and leave the Chantry.

Alistair catches up with me on the way out. "Lexen, that knight back there says that Arl Eamon has taken ill."

"That can't be a good sign," I say quietly. "We should get to Redcliffe as soon as possible and see if there's anything we can do to help."

"They're looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes to try to heal him!" Alistair says. "This must be really serious if they're chasing legends."

I return to the Qunari's cage and unlock it with the key I was given.

"So, it is done," he says, stepping out of the cage.

"I think we've got some extra armor and weapons around here somewhere for you. The Revered Mother said you're a Qunari. What should we call you?"

"Sten."

The rest of us introduce ourselves, and after sorting through our packs, Sten is equipped with a mismatched array of armor we could find that would fit him, and handed a Chasind sword that Alistair had picked up in the wilds.

"This will be adequate," Sten says. "Let us be off. We are keeping the darkspawn waiting."

"I like this guy already," Rispy says.

A short ways out of Lothering, we encounter a band of darkspawn. Nothing too threatening. I dispatch half of them with lightning before they even get close.

"You did not mention you are a mage," Sten says suspiciously.

"I am," I reply. "Will that be a problem?"

"Among my people, mages are bound with chains and kept from speaking, and are watched over carefully by handlers in case they show signs of demonic corruption."

"And here I thought the treatment of mages in _this_ country was harsh..." I mutter.

"A demon could be speaking with your voice, and who would know?" Sten says.

"This is true," I admit.

"And yet these others follow you," Sten says. "I do not understand. You could be controlling them."

"If that makes you uncomfortable, Sten, then follow _me_ ," Rispy says. "I'm a dwarf. Dwarves can't be controlled like that."

"Is the mage not the leader of your squad?" Sten asks.

"Yes," Rispy says. "We gave him that position because he's good at talking to people and convincing them at things, and I'd prefer to let him keep doing what he's good at. Ancestors know if I try persuading someone to help, I'll just wind up threatening their life."

"There is... wisdom in that," Sten says.

"Plus, he's a sharp one," Rispy says. "He'll spot a trap a mile away and never be fooled by a lie."

He's giving me a bit much credit, but I don't care to argue it just now.

"Yet, you are following him, so if I follow you, I will be following him as well, regardless. But it cannot be helped. I can only wish that your people held more civilized attitudes toward magic."


	10. Follower

We set up camp just outside of Lothering, well enough away from the hordes of swarming refugees. It's clear among the group dynamic that there has been a shift in the balance of power away from me and toward Rispy. Not just with Sten, but it seems Alistair as well has gained some more confidence to decide to follow Rispy more than me. Morrigan, on the other hand, seems more firmly set in favor of me, which honestly hasn't helped my standing any. And Daveth doesn't seem to be certain what to think.

This is bad. If I don't have control of the party, I may not be able to guide them appropriately to succeed in my goals. But I fear that at this rate, Rispy will have usurped control by the time we get to Redcliffe.

No. I must be calm. Even if I'm not actually the leader, Rispy will still listen to me. I'll still be able to convince him of things, if nothing else, by simply making them sound like the most obvious and reasonble course of action. There's nothing to panic over. Maybe a show of goodwill by willingly handing over the reins to him would make me look good.

"Rispy, would you rather be the leader of our group?" I ask. "I could simply be an advisor and diplomat, and leave the final word to you."

"What?" Rispy says. "I... I don't know if I'm up to _leading_ anything. I've always just had to rely on myself, and you seemed so confident and knowledgeable that it felt foolish to demand to be the leader myself."

"Relax," I say. "I think you'd be better at it than you give yourself credit for. Orzammar doesn't realize what talent they've missed out on."

"You really think so?" Rispy says. "Well, if you're there to back me up, I'm sure I can't go wrong."

"That's all well and good, but I'm not going to be able to be there for you all the time, regardless of what we might wish. You're going to need to be able to make decisions on your own, as well. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can do that," Rispy says.

"Good," I say. "Then let's make it official then, shall we?"

The decision seems to be met with a favorable attitude from everyone but Morrigan, who mainly keeps quiet on the far side of camp and doesn't bother voicing her opinions at the moment, which is probably for the best, all things considered.

I sleep, though not easily. Visions of darkspawn are fresh in my mind, nightmares fill my thoughts, and I can't seem to escape from the draconic face of the archdemon. Finally, I give up on sleep for the moment and look to the campfire, and see if there's anything to eat still about.

"Bad dreams?" Alistair asks.

"Nah, not really," I say. "I'd say they're positively delightful atrocious nightmares. I've always aspired to hearing the thoughts of an archdemon."

"Well, I guess lifelong dreams really do come true, then," Alistair says.

"The other Grey Wardens never mentioned anything about chronic nightmares. For that matter, they never mentioned we'd be devouring as much as an entire village ourselves, either. I don't suppose there's anything else they forgot to mention?"

"Well, you don't need to worry about retirement," Alistair says. "You've got about thirty years to live, provided something else doesn't kill you first, give or take. That's about how long your body will be able to withstand the taint before it overcomes you. Most Grey Wardens, when they get that old, go to Orzammar to die putting down as many darkspawn as they can."

"I see," I say. "Well, I didn't want to grow old, anyway."

I'd honestly be shocked if I _survived_ thirty years, anyway. He doesn't need to know that what happens to my physical body doesn't really concern me overly much.

"Although, speaking of the voracious appetite, is there anything left to eat around here?"

"I don't think we're going to make it to Redcliffe without starving at this rate," Alistair says. "Or at least, causing the localized extinction of every edible plant and animal on the way there."

"Hey, Rispy ate even more than I did!" I protest.

The sky is growing light. May as well give up on any further sleep for the night, anyway, as it's almost morning as it is. Rispy's waking up as well, as are the others.

"I'm starved," Rispy says. "Is there anything left to eat?"

I snicker softly.

"I believe we bought every scrap of food available in town," Sten says. "I am concerned if that amount did not last even a day. I did not eat for twenty days while I was in that cage."

"Oy, we'll be fine," Daveth says. "The woods are just crawling with food waiting to be picked or caught."

We still have food for the moment, though, so we put together a breakfast and start to eat.

Rispy pulls out our map and spreads it out. "Alright, we're here... and we're heading for Redcliffe here. Hopefully the road on the way there is in better condition than the one leading to Lothering was."

"It should be a bit better," Alistair says. "That's a major trade route into the Bannorn."

"What do we hope to accomplish by traveling to this Redcliffe?" Sten asks.

"Ah, you wouldn't know about what happened in Ostagar," Rispy says.

Rispy gives a brief rundown of the battle there, Loghain's betrayal, and the death of King Cailan and most of the Grey Wardens.

"I see," Sten says. "I never hope to understand why humans do this to one another."

"So we're heading to Redcliffe looking for allies against the darkspawn, and very likely against Loghain as well," Rispy says.

"And Arl Eamon conveniently got deathly ill on the eve of battle," I say. "If Loghain had nothing to do with that, I'll eat my robe."

"That's going a bit far, don't you think?" Alistair says. "If Loghain did something to him, it would have had to have been before the battle at Ostagar. Could he have predicted how things would go?"

"We'll assess the situation when we get to Redcliffe," Rispy says. "

That settled for the moment, we finish breakfast and start to break camp.

"So, Sten," Rispy says. "Tell me about the Qunari."

"No," Sten says flatly.

"Why not?" Rispy asks.

"People cannot simply be summarized in the manner of: 'The dwarves are a short, stocky people who excel at drinking urine.'"

"I see your point," Rispy says. "But still, I'd like to know more, and not just a summary. I didn't have much opportunity for learning before I left Orzammar two months ago."

"I am not a teacher," Sten replies. "That is not my role."

"Granted," Rispy says. "You're a warrior, like me. Although I'm betting you didn't have people telling you that you couldn't be a warrior just because your mother was a useless drunk."

"That would be foolish," Sten says. "The Tamassrans decide on a person's role in life, depending on aptitude. While a child descended from priests may be more likely to make a suitable priest, if he would be better suited to be a warrior, then he will be a warrior instead."

"That's... refreshingly sensible," Rispy says.

"But here, no one has a place," Sten says. "Everyone wants to be something they are not."

"Well, they don't have anyone to tell them what they should be doing, so it's left up to chance whether they stumble upon it or not," Rispy says. "Even Orzammar, with its messed up caste system, has more order to it than Ferelden."

Their conversation continues along the road to Orzammar. I listen in absently, but keep quiet, as I don't care to antagonize Sten.

Learning more about the Qunari could be useful should I have to deal with them more in the future. When Sten mentions that the Qunari also includes humans, elves, and dwarves, Rispy's eyes widen a bit in surprise.

"Really?" Rispy asks. "So, where do I sign up?"

"The Qun is not something to be embraced on a mere whim," Sten says. "It is a way of life."

"Yes, I understand that," Rispy says. "But this isn't a whim. I'm serious."

"Let us speak of this at a later time, then," Sten says. "As it is, I cannot return to my people, myself."

"I-- I'm sorry about that," Rispy says with a bit of surprise. "Well, you're welcome to stay with us, then."

"Thank you."


	11. Protector

As we're approaching Redcliffe, Alistair decides to speak up. "Before we head into town, there's something I ought to tell you."

"What is it?" Rispy asks.

"Well, it never really came up before, but I might have mentioned how I'm a bastard, right? And Arl Eamon raised me? Well, the thing is, my real father was King Maric."

"So you're a royal bastard, then," I say. "Wouldn't that make you the heir to the throne?

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," Alistair says.

"I don't see why it really matters," Rispy says. "Or why that should make you any better a leader than anyone else."

"I suppose I shouldn't have been worried about what you guys would think," Alistair says. "But I'm still afraid someone will try to make me a king anyway."

"I think you've been listening to Sten too much," I say. "Bloodlines are still very important to humans. And dwarves, as you might recall."

"I think more people should listen to the Qunari _more_ ," Rispy says.

"Are you planning on putting a collar on me next?" I ask.

"Oh, that could be fun," Morrigan says."

"Morrigan..." I say with a smirk.

"I suggest collaring Morrigan first," Sten says. "And gagging her."

"Oh, Sten, you say such interesting things," Morrigan says lightly.

"Apparently, you're all too interested in making innuendo to listen to my confessions," Alistair says. "Alright then, moving on."

"Hey, if you don't care who my parents were, I won't care who yours were," Rispy says.

"Good enough for me," Alistair says. "Let's go."

Something feels off about Redcliffe as we head into town. It's too quiet, and there's a tension in the air, as if something is very not right about the place.

We quickly find out why, as the townsfolk fill us in. "Have you come to help? Did they send help?" 

"You mean for the arl?" Alistair says. "We've heard he's sick."

"No... we haven't heard anything from the castle in days. We've been attacked by horrible... things every night. Please, good sers, you have to help us."

"What sort of... things?" Rispy asks.

"I don't know," the villager says. "They're awful monsters. They've killed a lot of people already."

Rispy sighs at the man's uselessness. "I'd like to speak to whoever is organizing your defense. Where is he?"

"Mayor Murdock. Down in the center of town, in front of the Chantry."

We head down to where there's a man giving orders, and a militia practicing at combat. They look to be fairly inexperienced, for the most part, but at least they're willing to fight.

"We're here to help," Rispy says. "What's your status?"

"Thank the Maker," the man says. "Things aren't looking good here. The blacksmith's refusing to work, and some of the men are refusing to fight."

"That's foolishness," Rispy says.

"I know, but there you have it. If you can convince them to help out, that would be great."

"Lexen, you handle the blacksmith," Rispy says.

"Will do."

We split up, going off to take care of different aspects of shoring up the town's defenses. Rispy and Sten go off to speak with a dwarf named Dwyn. Alistair goes into the chantry to speak with some people he used to know here, apparently. Daveth and Morrigan go up to the tavern.

I start off with the blacksmith, as he'll need as much time to work as possible, time which he's already wasted precious amounts of in his foolish wallowing. I knock on the door to the smithy.

"Go away, Murdock," says a voice from inside. "You'll get no work out of me."

"I'm not Murdock," I say. "May I come in? I just want to talk with you for a moment."

"Oh, fine, I'll get the door."

I step inside the smithy that smells more like a brewery at the moment, and assess the thoroughly drunken blacksmith.

"Maker's breath, man, I understand things are bad, but how will this help anyone?"

"What does it matter anymore?" says the smith. "My daughter is up there in that castle, and they refuse to send anyone to look for her!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, ser," I say. "I didn't know. Look, I and my companions have just arrived in town to help. Once the town is secure, I promise we'll go into the castle and search for her. If she still lives, we'll bring her back to you."

"That's all I can ask for. Fine, tell Murdock he'll have his repairs."

Having dealt with that, I step outside. I spot Alistair across the way, just coming out of the Chantry.

"Someone's going to need to go talk to the templars," Alistair says.

"You can do that," I say. "I don't really care to spend anymore time with them than necessary. No offense."

"None taken," Alistair says. "I'll take care of that, then."

The others return momentarily as well.

"It seems there was an elf in the tavern that Loghain hired to keep an eye on the castle. I convinced him to join the militia," Morrigan says. "Oh, and the fat barkeep, too, just because it was funny. If we must help everyone we come across, I'll get my amusement out of it where I can."

"So Loghain is involved somehow?" Rispy says. "Interesting. We convinced Dwyn to join the fight, too."

"Did you bribe him, or threaten his life?" I ask.

"Mostly the latter," Rispy says with a smirk.

"I convinced the blacksmith to sober up and get back to work," I say. "Alistair went off to talk to the templars. Ah, speaking of which, there he is now."

"Ugh," Alistair says. "Those templars want the Maker's blessing to help protect them in battle."

"Um... what, so they want magical aid?" I wonder.

"They seem to expect that the Maker will do something tangible to help them if asked politely," Alistair says dryly.

"That seems a perfectly reasonable request to me," Rispy says. "I have to wonder why you humans bother worshipping a supposedly all-powerful being otherwise."

"Magic _is_ supposed to be the Maker's gift," I point out.

"I'm with the dwarf on this one," Morrigan says. "I've yet to see any evidence that this Maker even exists, never mind why anyone in their right mind should be worshipping him."

"Can we please not have this argument right now?" Alistair says.

"Lexen, see if you can scrounge up something in that Chantry to make those templars happy," Rispy says with a snort. "We're going to need them in this fight."

"As you wish."

I'm kind of impressed at how quickly Rispy stepped into his new role as leader. And I'm not about to undermine his newfound confidence by second-guessing his orders without good reason. I step into the Chantry, masking my reluctance well, and look around thoughtfully. I go back to speak to the Revered Mother.

"Maker's blessing upon you, child," the Revered Mother says. "Is there something you require?"

"Do you have any holy symbols or the like laying around, by chance?" I ask.

"Why, yes, we have a box of Chantry amulets," she replies. "What do you wish them for?"

"A morale booster for the templars," I explain. "A reminder of whose name they're fighting in."

"That sounds like a worthy enough cause," she says. "Here, I'll get those for you."

"My thanks, Revered Mother. May the Maker watch over you."

"May he watch over us all."

With the box in hand, I head out into the main area of the Chantry and then step into a side alcove for the moment, to avoid too much direct scrutiny. Time to work some literal magic on these amulets.

I can't do any permanent enchantments, but they don't need to be. Something strong enough to last a day or two will suffice. I tie a simple protective charm into each of the amulets. It won't be enough to make them invulnerable, either, but it will certainly help them to avoid injury in the fight ahead.

I step out of the Chantry and hand off the box to Alistair, who looks at me questioningly. "You can pass these off to the templars. The Maker will be protecting them tonight. Or at least, something will."

"Isn't it a little dishonest to give them magical amulets?" Alistair asks.

"It's only a temporary enhancement," I say. "And it's the Maker's gift, is it not? Magic is meant to serve man, and all that rot."

"Fine, I'll give them to the templars." He turns to go back up the hill again, box in hand.

Night falls upon Redcliffe. An eerie green mist rises from the castle. There's movement in the distance, and as they approach, I can see a horde of undead descending upon the town. But the defenders are ready.

Morrigan and I take out a number of the creatures with our spells before they even get close. Many others are felled by the blades of our companions. The templars wade into the midst of the battle unscathed. My shields are holding, so far.

It's a long battle. My endurance is waning. I cut back on the offensive magic and set about to healing and rejuvenating the defenders. How many of these things can there possibly be?

They taper off into the later hours, but they don't stop coming until dawn. Everyone is exhausted, but thanks to our efforts, perhaps in large part to _my_ efforts, no townspeople were slain this night.

"You there. Mage," a templar says. "We are grateful for your assistance. I don't know if you're an apostate or not, but you need not fear the templars of Redcliffe."

I give him a respectful bow. "Thank you, but I am a Grey Warden, not an apostate."

"Then the same goes, for different reason," the templars says. "Those of us who are sane do not believe Loghain's lies about the Wardens."

With the town safe for now, we take a quick nap to restore our energy a bit.

"Alright," Rispy says. "Here's the plan. We're going to sneak into the castle through a secret passage into the basement. There's something bad going on in there, and I aim to find out what. And put a stop to it."

Rispy decides to keep the number of people sneaking around to a minimum, and takes along Sten, myself, and the dog, leaving the remainder of the party to wait at the gates with the templars for them to be opened from the inside. I don't bother to comment that if we were looking for stealth, bringing along the Qunari and the canine might not be the best of choices.

We slip in through the tunnel. There's more undead inside, but not nearly as many as had just stormed the town at night. This just seems like a handful of leftovers.

When we reach the dungeons, I spot a familiar figure inside one of the cells.

"Jowan?" I say with a touch of surprise.

"Lexen?" Jowan says. "I never thought I'd see _you_ again."

"Friend of yours?" Rispy asks.

"You could say that... Jowan, what's going on here?"

"Oh, it's terrible, everything has gotten out of hand..." Jowan says with a sigh. "The arlessa hired me on to teach magic in secret to their young son, Connor, because they didn't want to lose him to the tower. But then all these undead appeared, and they blamed me for it and locked me up in here."

"But it wasn't your doing?" I wonder.

Jowan shakes his head. "Connor probably did it accidentally."

"What about the arl?" I ask. "Does this have anything to do with why he's sick?"

"Well, um... Loghain hired me to poison him."

I put my face in my hands. "Jowan, have I told you lately that you're an idiot?"

"Not since before I left the tower," Jowan replies.

"Your choice in friends astounds me," Rispy comments.

"I concur," I say.

"I've done such terrible things," Jowan says. "I'm an apostate, and a-- a blood mage! I deserve to die for my crimes."

"If the mage wishes to die, I say we oblige him," Sten says.

"First, I want to know why," I say. "Why, Jowan, _why_ did you do these things? Especially, why would you poison the arl just because Loghain told you to?"

"Well, Loghain's a teyrn... I thought it would be doing the right thing, helping the kingdom, you know?"

I put my palms to my face again. "And you _listened_ to him? Loghain's a traitor and is trying to tear this kingdom apart!"

"I-- I didn't know that!" Jowan protests. "I couldn't have known that at the time."

"You're a complete and utter failure at basic common sense," I say. "It's people like you who make the Qunari solution sound like a _good idea_ , and I'm a mage! _You_ can't even be trusted to wipe your own ass! I can't believe I ever helped you."

I catch a glimpse of Sten looking at me with what might be newfound appreciation. Or just his typical stoicism. It's hard to tell.

"Jowan," Rispy says. "I judge that you must die for your crimes. May death purge your corruption."

"I accept your judgment." Jowan kneels down in his cell next to the bars.

Rispy pulls out a knife. He reaches into the cell and kills Jowan in one swift stroke. Jowan's body collapses, a peaceful look upon his face in his last moments.

Rispy turns to me and speaks a little awkwardly. "Do you... want to say some words to the Maker for your friend here?"

"No," I reply. "He brought it upon himself. Also, I'm an atheist, but don't tell the Chantry that."

"Heh," Rispy says. "Alright, let's go. We've still got one more mage to deal with, apparently."

We climb up the stairs and clear out a number of undead from the main floor. We also come upon the blacksmith's missing daughter, Valena, and send her off safely out the way we came in.

Once we make it to the front gate, we open it up to let the others inside. From there, we make our way into the main chamber.

Upon arrival inside, we're met with a strange sight. A noble -- I didn't catch his name -- is rolling about like a circus clown, performing for the entertainment of a young boy, while a noblewoman looks on with horror.

"Bann Teagan?" Alistair says in shock. "What in Andraste's name is going on here?"

"You! Who are you to come in here and interrupt my fun?" His voice is nothing like a small boy's. It's deep, menacing... demonic.

"I think we have an abomination on our hands here..." I say.

Rispy approaches the far side of the chamber, giving a hard look at the child.

"Mother, what is this creature?" the boy says.

"This is a dwarf, Connor," the woman says. "You've seen dwarves before. There are some of them working in the castle smithy."

"Why does it interrupt my fun?" the demon boy asks. "I don't like that. I just want to have fun, mother. Tell them to go away."

"No more from you, demon." Rispy strikes at Connor with his blade.

The possessed child darts out of the way, inhumanly fast. The boy turns and runs out of the room.

"Rispy!" Alistair exclaims. "What are you doing? He's just a boy!"

"That is no boy," Rispy says coldly. "That is a demon wearing a boy's body. The situation is regretable, but there's no help for it now."

"No, ser dwarf, please!" the woman begs. "Have mercy upon my boy! He's done nothing wrong!"

"He is possessed, and has been responsible for the deaths of many people," Rispy points out.

"The only cure for possession is death," Sten says.

"Is there no other way?" the woman says. "Oh, my poor boy. Surely there is something that can be done! You, you're a mage, are you not? Do you know of no other alternative?"

"Well, actually... yes, there's a chance, but it's a slim one, and not an easy one," I say quietly.

"Anything has to be better than killing Connor!" the woman says.

"Someone could go into the Fade and defeat the demon there," I say. "That could save him without harming the boy."

"I don't like it," Rispy says.

"We can't just kill Connor if there's an alternative," Alistair says. "That would be barbaric."

"Besides, this really wasn't Connor's fault," I say. "It was the fault of that idiot blood mage whose corpse is rotting downstairs."

"He's dead?" the woman says.

"I killed him," Rispy says.

"Oh..."

"What would we need to do to send someone into the Fade to save him?" Alistair asks.

"Unfortunately, that would require a fair bit of lyrium, and several more mages," I say.

"We don't have either of those available here right now," the woman says, looking downcast.

"The Circle Tower is right across the lake, though," I point out. "We could just go over and ask them for help."

"But they'd still take Connor away, then..." the woman says.

"I don't think there's any help for that, now," I say. "Either death or the Circle. Which would you prefer?"

"Please, spare my son if there's any chance of saving him," the woman says. "His fate is in your hands."

"No," Rispy says. "You do not want his fate to be in _my_ hands. If it is, then I will kill him. But you, you should take responsibility for your own actions. You are not blameless in the disaster that happened here. Your carelessness and poor judgment has endangered both your son and your husband, as well as taken the lives of many townspeople."

"I... I know... I just..."

"Rispy..." Alistair says.

"You're the arlessa," Rispy points out. "You're supposed to be a leader figure here. People are relying on you to make good decisions. They've trusted in your judgment. And what have you done instead? You've allowed foolhardy emotions to get in the way of your duty."

"Rispy, that's enough," Alistair warns.

"Is it?" Rispy says. "I don't know that I've made my point clearly enough yet. It's difficult to get common sense through to some people, after all."

"I think the arlessa has gotten the point by now," Alistair says.

"Now, arlessa," Rispy says. "Much as I might question your judgment, you still have the position of the leader of this place. Be aware of the facts as they stand and the potential consequences for your decision, but the decision on what to do about Connor is still yours. And regardless of whether or not I agree with it, I will abide by it."

The arlessa stares at the floor for a moment, still in something of a shock. "But... you killed Jowan."

"He confessed his crimes and offered up his life for them," Rispy says.

"Jowan was my friend..." I say quietly. "...and I still couldn't let slide what he did, even so. If it were just being careless in training your son, at least that would have been a crime with good intentions, but he poisoned your husband on Loghain's orders, too!"

"I... I understand," the arlessa says. "Then... if there's still a way you can save Connor, I must beg you to try. For his sake. Please."

Rispy gives a short nod. "Very well. Do you think the situation can be contained long enough for us to travel to the Circle Tower and back?"

"That's a journey of at least two weeks... I don't know," the arlessa says.

"Would it help if I left some people here to make sure things don't get out of hand again?" Rispy asks.

"Yes, it would," the arlessa says. "We've lost a lot of people, and I don't trust the templars not to just kill Connor outright if they realize what has happened."

"Then, Sten and Lexen will travel with me," Rispy says. "The rest will remain here to watch over the castle."

"You're leaving me here, with Alistair?" Morrigan says.

"We're going to the Circle of Magi," Rispy points out. "If you enter that tower, you might not walk back out again, you know."

"I doubt they could hold me, but point taken," Morrigan says.

"We'll leave in the morning," Rispy says.


	12. Questioning

Morning comes, and we eat breakfast and prepare to leave Redcliffe.

"That was a good example of one of the many things wrong with this country," Sten comments.

"What's that?" Rispy asks.

"You don't have priests to raise and train your children," Sten says. "They are being raised by their parents, who are not doing a good job of it."

"Heh, I'll agree with that," Rispy says.

"Seconded," I say.

"What was your family like, Lexen?" Rispy asks.

"Insane, for the most part," I reply. "They were trying to breed powerful mages. They tended to get a little too power-hungry, though."

"They were apostates?" Rispy asks.

I give a nod. "They would have sooner burnt every Chantry they could find to the ground than bow down to anyone's law but their own."

"You are from the Tevinter Imperium?" Sten says. "I should have recognized it from the way you speak."

"I ran away when I was young," I say. "Far away. I went to the Circle of Magi when I was ten. I walked into that tower willingly. Heh, I didn't even know what I was getting myself into at the time, but you know what? It was better than staying where I was."

"My people have long been enemies of the Tevinter magisters, but you have already shown you are not like them," Sten says. "They would never submit to another's authority."

"I don't understand," Rispy says. "Why would you leave a place where you would have been effectively nobility, and go to someplace where you're all but a prisoner just because of what you are?"

I chuckle gently. "I was a child. I was lucky to even make it here. I knew nothing of how the Circle of Magi functions in this land. You can imagine that the templars were amused and confused when I walked in asking to sign up to learn magic. And then I couldn't leave again for seven years."

"So you wouldn't have gone there by choice, had you known what you were walking into beforehand?" Rispy asks.

"Rispy, if I knew then what I know now, I'd have begged to follow the Qun before staying where I was," I say.

"You display far more sense than most mages I have encountered," Sten says. "That _is_ still an option."

"Would you collar me now if I said yes?" I ask.

"Would you obey if I did?" Sten retorts.

"Let me get back to you on that..." I say.

We travel along the road alongside Lake Calenhad, heading up toward the Circle Tower.

"I've never seen so much water in one place before in my life," Rispy says.

"I traveled across the sea to come here," Sten says.

"What keeps all the water from pouring out?" Rispy wonders.

Sten merely chuckles softly.

"So what's it like, wherever it is you're from?" Rispy asks.

"It is different in Par Vollen," Sten says. "Everyone has a place. Things are much more orderly."

Rispy gives a thoughtful nod.

"And the coast smells of salt and the sea, and the forest smells of leaves and mist," Sten says. "Ferelden smells primarily of dog."

"It's better than Orzammar," Rispy says. "That place smells of nugs and dung. So why did you come here, anyway?"

"The arishok asked of us, 'What is the Blight?'" Sten says. "And so we came to answer his question."

"What is an arishok?" Rispy asks.

"He is the leader of our armies," Sten says.

"Did you find the answer he was looking for?" Rispy asks.

"We saw nothing of the darkspawn at first, until one night while we camped on the shores of this lake. They assailed us and overwhelmed us. We were unprepared for their numbers and their blind, mindless ferocity. I came with seven of my brothers, and of them, only I survived."

"Reminds me of what happened at Ostagar," Rispy says. "How did you survive?"

"By pure chance alone, I am certain," Sten says. "I lay on the battlefield among the dead, and a group of farmers found me and took me in. But when I woke, my sword was gone. My sword! I was to die wielding that blade in the name of the Qun. It represented my honor as a Qunari. But it was gone, and I panicked. I killed those farmers with my bare hands."

"That's terrible," Rispy says.

"I agree," Sten says. "I was guilty... and so I let the Chantry cage me for it."

"Where exactly was your camp?" Rispy asks. "Was it close to here? Maybe we can find your sword."

"Not far from here," Sten says. "A little ways to the north yet, I believe. I doubt that we will find anything, but thank you for your words, nonetheless."

I follow along after them quietly. Even more quietly than the dog, who seems to think that this is quite the pleasant walk.

"How did you end in all the way over in Lothering if you camped out by Lake Calenhad?" Rispy wonders.

"I do not know."

The next day, we travel a bit further before Sten stops us, looking around thoughtfully. "Here. It was here."

There aren't any signs remaining that there was ever a battle here or that any Qunari had camped here recently. Even the bones have been picked clean.

"Oy, you!" says a scruffy man. "This is my spot! Get your own!"

"Your... spot?" Rispy says.

"Aye, I paid good coin to scavenge here," the man says. "I should've known better, though. There ain't nothing left!"

"Who did you pay for this 'spot'?" Rispy wonders.

"A fellow by the name of Faryn."

"Do you know where this Faryn is now?" Rispy asks.

"I think he mentioned he was heading up to Orzammar. If you've got some problem with him, leave me out of it. I'm just trying to get by here."

Without anything further to find here, we move on.

"This Faryn has probably already taken everything he could find and sold it," I say. "That sword could be anywhere by now."

"And unfortunately, we don't have time to take a detour to Orzammar at the moment," Rispy says. "I'm sorry, Sten."

"There is no need to apologize," Sten says. "I do not expect to find it now, regardless."

As we travel, Sten continues to tell Rispy about the Qun. Although he insists that it is not his role to teach, Rispy persists in asking him questions, and Sten does his best to answer. For the most part, I am silent, and do not make any interjections unless I am directly addressed.

When we arrive at the Circle Tower, I can tell before we even set foot inside that something feels very wrong about the place.

"Something has happened here... We should be cautious," I say quietly.

Inside, we're greeted by a group of nervous templars. No other mages are in sight.

"Ah, it's that mage who got conscripted into the Grey Wardens to avoid justice," Greagoir says.

"I am also a Grey Warden, and Lexen follows _my_ lead," Rispy says. "If you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me."

"No, no problem," Greagoir says. "But if you're looking for aid against the Blight, I'm afraid you won't find any here."

"What's going on here?" Rispy asks.

"The tower has been overrun by abominations," Greagoir says. "I fear all the mages are dead, or possessed. I have sent word for the Right of Annulment, but I have not received a response yet."

"The tower is... lost?" I say. "How did this happen?"

"I wish I knew," Greagoir says. "It has been all we could do to keep them from getting out of the tower."

"Surely there must be something we can do to help," I say. "There's got to be still mages trapped in there!"

"You're welcome to try if you like, but I have my doubts as to whether you'll succeed or not," Greagoir says.

"Even if there's nothing left to save, then clearing out the abominations is still a worthy goal," Rispy says.

"That's something that can wait until we have the Right of Annulment and more templars to help with," Greagoir says.

"Your templars were careless in allowing this to progress this far," Sten says. "This never would have happened among my people."

"True, the Qunari measures are harsh, but it's times like these that make me wonder if they aren't warranted," Greagoir says.

"We're going up there," Rispy says. "Whether it be to salvage what we can or just to kill everything will remain to be seen."

"Well, if you're determined, then I will wish you luck," Greagoir says. "May the Maker guide your blades."

We head through the doors and into the tower's corridors, and begin dispatching abominations.

I never imagined when I left the tower that I would come back to _this_. So familiar, and yet now, horrifically tainted and twisted. I can only hope that we can find survivors, or we're risking our lives for nothing here. No, we're risking our lives for the chance at finding survivors, and that's good enough for me.

Further down the corridor, we come upon an elderly female mage protecting a group of younger apprentices.

"Company?" says the old woman. "Did the templars call for the Right of Annulment? Or... Lexen, is that you?"

"We've come to help, Wynne," I assure her.

"Oh, thank the Maker," Wynne says.

"Hmm..." Rispy says. "You don't look like an abomination, but how do I know you aren't possessed too?"

"Rispy!" I protest. "She's not possessed!"

"Can you be entirely certain of that?" Sten says stoically.

"Can you be entirely certain that _I'm_ not?" I ask.  
"No." Sten looks at me ominously and I wish that I hadn't said that.

"Are we going to start slaughtering children because they might be possessed, while trying to save a child who _is_ possessed?" I wonder incredulously.

"A possessed child?" Wynne asks. "What's this about?"

"The son of the arl of Redcliffe is apparently a mage, and he's been possessed," Rispy says. "Our companion suggested there might still be a way to help him, although I'm still dubious on this account."

"There is... but it won't be easy," Wynne says. "And the Circle is hardly in a state to help at the moment."

"I do have to wonder, if it's possible, why this isn't done more often, even if it isn't 'easy'," Rispy syas. "Like what about now? Can't someone just enter the Fade to kill all these demons and de-possess all these abominations?"

"It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid," Wynne says.

"Why doesn't it?" Rispy asks. "Why can this be done in one case and not another?"

"It's complicated," Wynne says, shaking her head.

"What, you're assuming that just because I'm a dwarf, that I'm incapable of understanding things which are complicated?" Rispy says.

"No!" Wynne says. "I mean, you're not a mage, you don't have the grounding in magical theory..."

"Then explain it to our mage," Rispy replies.

"Besides," Wynne goes on. "We don't even have the resources to send someone into the Fade at the moment, and even if you found a way in somehow, I doubt it would help, regardless..."

"Fine," Rispy says, rolling his eyes. "Then let's just kill all the abominations to save one other abomination. That's not hypocritical or anything."

"I won't deny that we might still have to kill him, regardless," I say quietly.


	13. Magister

I decide to head back to the beginning for a fresh start, and return to Torn Elkandu.

"I'd like to go to the world of Thedas, where Ferelden is located, but not to the Circle Tower there," I say. "Do you have any coordinates recorded for any other locations there? The Tevinter Imperium, perhaps?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not," Calto the gnome says. "We haven't done any extensive explorations of that world yet. If you've been there yourself, though, you can calibrate the Nexus yourself for it. I can assist you in that. Otherwise, you'll just have to go to our drop point outside the Circle Tower and make your way there yourself."

I give a nod. I hadn't expected that this would be easy. But if I can make it there once, it'll be a lot easier to get there again later. "Alright. Put me down outside the Circle Tower, then. I'll just have to see if I can find my way to Tevinter."

"Very well," Calto says. "The Nexus is calibrated and ready for you to go. Good luck to you."

I arrive on the shore of Lake Calenhad across from the Circle Tower once again, but this time I don't approach. Since I'm not actually the age I appear to be, I'm not going to be prone to accidental magic. I have much better control than that. It should be easy enough to avoid drawing attention to myself as a mage, at least. And as a child? Well, I'm just another orphan trying to get by. What else would I be?

For starters, I don't even know where the Tevinter Imperium is in relation to Ferelden. First and foremost, I'm going to need to acquire a map of Thedas. I've only seen maps of Ferelden so far. I've heard of Denerim, but I haven't been there yet. Denerim is a port city, and large enough that I might just be able to find a map, as well as passage on a ship right to Tevinter, if I'm lucky. Hopefully it's not landlocked. I don't fancy a long trip over land.

I remember the way to Denerim, more or less. At least if I follow the roads, I shouldn't get too lost. After buying some supplies in the settlement at Lake Calenhad, I start walking.

Two days into my journey, a merchant caravan catches up to me from behind. "Oy there, lad. It's not safe to be walking these roads alone nowadays. You'll get accosted by bandits and robbed of everything you own."

"Thanks for the warning," I say.

"You can ride along with us for a while if you like," the merchant says. "Where you heading?"

"Denerim, ser," I reply.

"Well, we'll be turning off for Amarathine further down the road, but we'll get you most of the way there."

"Thank you, ser," I say. "Is Amaranthine a port city, by chance?"

"That it is," the merchant says.

"Perhaps I should go there, instead."

"Looking for a ship, are you?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Well, Amaranthine might just have what you're looking for, then," the merchant says. "Whereabouts you looking to sail to?"

"The Tevinter Imperium," I reply. "I'm told I have family there, but I've never been there, myself. I don't even know where it is, exactly..."

He frowns a bit. "Not the first place I'd choose to go, but if you're going to your family, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Do you know what it's like there?" I ask. "I haven't really heard much."

"Eh," he says. "You don't hear much around here but rumor and legend. You hear all kinds of things about them, you know, practicing forbidden magic, eating babies, whatnot. How much of it is true? I couldn't tell you."

"Well, I suppose if things don't work out or I don't like what I see, I can always just leave again..."

"Heh," the merchant said. "Good luck with that, lad."

It takes us another week and a half to reach Amaranthine. It's a lovely city, certainly no tiny village. I part ways with the nice merchants and make my way into town.

My first stop is to find someone who can give me a bit of local currency from my gems or gold bars. I'm always grateful to one thing my mother told me, to always carry around valuables that are easy to convert into different currency in most places. I don't care to change too much, in case they use something different in Tevinter, but I'll need some in order to book passage on a ship.

Once that's taken care of, I head down to the docks. I look around a bit and ask where I can find whoever is in charge of the docks. I'm pointed to the harbormaster, and head ove to his office to see him.

"Excuse me, ser," I say. "I'm looking for a ship to take me to the Tevinter Imperium."

"The Imperium, huh?" he says. "Well, let me take a look at the schedules. Hmm. You're in luck, boy. The _Golden Albatross_ will be departing for Minrathous in a week's time."

I assume that's in Tevinter. "Thank you, ser."

I go and locate the _Golden Albatross_ and book passage aboard it. I can't tell what sort of ship it is. Slavers? Pirates? Legitimate merchants? No matter. If it'll get me where I'm going, it doesn't really matter, I suppose.

"Heh, the little runt wants to go to Tevinter, huh?" says the captain. "Well, he don't look like much, but his coin's good. We'll be in port for another week, boy. You better be in board when we weigh anchor, or you'll be getting left behind."

"Understood, ser," I say. "I'll be here."

Well, I've got some time to kill. I head off to explore the city. Perhaps see if I can find anything worth buying while I'm here.

The week passes quickly enough, and I board my ship. I'm surprisingly comfortable on the open sea. There's another passenger on board who seems to spend most of the trip vomiting  
over the side of the ship, much to the mockery of the sailors.

"Bloody landlubbers," says the captain. "And the young man over there looks like he was born on the sea."

The sea voyage is refreshing. Standing out on the deck with the wind blowing, I almost feel like I'm flying.

But soon, it's over, and we arrive in Minrathous. I'm unprepared for the sight of this place. It's a grand city that puts Ferelden to shame, and makes it look like a backwater land full of barbarians, mud, and dogs. Well, it is, but still. This place looks old... but not everything is glorious. High walls and spiring towers dominate the skyline, but when I look to the ground rather than to the sky, I can see the poor, the filth, the slaves.

Still, I'm here now, and it's time to see how much better things really are for mages here. Time to ask a few questions and get my bearings in my new surroundings.

"Excuse me, ser," I ask a random person on the streets. "Can you tell me where one might find the mages around here?"

"Just got off the boat, huh?" the stranger says in faint amusement. "Well, you'll be looking for the Arcanist Hall, then. See that building with the huge towers over there?"

"Thank you, ser," I say. "Good day."

I head over toward the huge, grand building. It looks nothing like a prison. Even the Circle Tower, which seemed more like a fortress than anything else, still felt oppressive. It's pretty obvious that this is the most important building in the city, however. Even the marble floors are polished well enough to see my face in them. The furnishings are lavish, with hanging tapestries and grandiose statues. I can't help but find myself staring at everything. Even Torn Elkandu was not this... grand.

"Mistress, there's a boy standing around in the lobby staring at everything," says a man.

Looks like I've attracted some attention.

"Are you looking for something, young man?" asks a woman.

"I was told I could find mages here," I say. "I was looking to study magic. Could you tell me where I need to sign up, or something?"

"Do you have any talent, or are you just a delusional youngster hoping to become like his betters?"

Yeah, this is more what I'm used to. They do remind me of Elkandu. I chuckle softly in spite of myself. "Oh, I have talent, alright." I resist the urge to give a little demonstration of what I've already learned elsewhere. I want to look like I'm just a kid that's here to learn.

"You have the look of a foreigner about you," she says. "Where are you from?"

I realize just then that I had forgotten to change out of my Elkandu clothes. No wonder I was getting strange looks before. "Ferelden. But, I didn't care to get locked in a tower, so I decided to leave before anyone else realized that I'm a mage."

"A sensible decision," she says. "Well, you can be assured that your place here will be determined by your own talent and merit, and not by locking up those who have the most talent and merit."

"That's good to know," I say. "So, what do I need to do?"

"Come with me. I'll show you to the area where children are first taught basic magical instruction. If, in some years, you show promise and impress a magister, they may decide to take you on as an apprentice for more advanced one-on-one training."

I give a nod. "Sounds good."

I settle in to the beginner classes in the Arcanist Hall. It quickly becomes apparent to my teachers, however, that I'm not just an ordinary beginner mage. But, the notion that I might be something other than I appear to be, or that I'm older than I look, never seems to cross their mind. They're perfectly happy to attribute my abilities to a high degree of inherent natural talent. That suits me well enough.

I'm in Minrathous for a few years, adding to my growing repertoire of arcane knowledge, before I'm approached by one of the city's powerful magisters. A man named Danarius. "You have proven yourself to be quite talented, young man."

"Thank you, ser."

"Why don't you give me a little demonstration on what you can do?" Danarius asks.

"Certainly."

No holding back for this one. I go all out with my power, showing him everything I'm capable of. I'm thankful that the Arcanist Hall has magic-proof practice rooms to avoid causing unfortunate property damage when performing offensive magic.

"Hmm," Danarius says. "It seems they were right, you _do_ appear to be a natural magical prodigy. That magic should be well beyond your level yet, but you cast it without breaking a sweat. Lesser mages would be exhausted by a display like that."

"I could keep going for a while yet," I say.

"I wouldn't normally take an apprentice so young, but you show such promise... it would be a crime to see you wasted on those basic courses forever. You're already well beyond that. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"I would be honored, ser." I find myself grinning broadly. Imagine the things I could learn from this man!

Danarius takes me to his estate. It's a lavish mansion, far larger than any one person should ever have need for, and probably requires dozens of slaves to keep clean and functional. I wonder how many apprentices he must have in this place. And how many slaves.

It's strange seeing so many elves as slaves in this place. I haven't commented on my elvish blood, and am thankful that it's far enough back not to be immediately obvious. But I've seen free elves at the Arcanist's Hall as well, learning magic.

We enter the lush courtyard. Exotic trees and flowers adorn the place, and walkways lead through the center and around a fountain. Near the fountain, I spot movement. It's an armored elf, practicing movements with a large sword. As we approach, I see that his skin is covered with strange, glowing markings. Magical augmentations of some sort, perhaps.

... I find him beautiful.

He moves like the wind, with the grace only an elf can have. His markings only seem to enhance his beauty. He seems perfect to me in every possible way."

"Fenris, this is my new apprentice, Lexen," Danarius says. "Treat him as you would me."

I shake myself from my stray thoughts. What am I thinking, anyway?

"Yes, Master." The beautiful elf, Fenris, gives a deep bow toward us.

So he's a slave, then. Somehow that doesn't make me think any less of him, however. I'm not much one for slavery in general, but being in Tevinter, I haven't cared to stir things up too much by speaking my mind on the matter.

I absently wonder if I might be able to buy or steal Fenris from Danarius. He's probably a prized slave, and purchasing him might just cost me everything I own, if he'll even sell at all. Magical gemstones might change his mind...

I push aside those thoughts for the moment. I just met this elf, why am I even considering this now? First things first, though, I want to learn all I can from Danarius while I have the opportunity. I'm not going to squander it now. This is what I came here for, after all.

And Danarius has much to teach me, and I learn much from him. I quickly discover that he's not shy about using blood magic, either. I'm not about to protest, but it's not really necessary to kill a slave just to demonstrate something for one's apprentice. While I'm eager enough to learn blood magic, I think he noticed my squeamishness with regards to pointless killing.

"You don't like slavery, do you," Danarius says.

"What?" I say with some surprise. "I'd be crazy to say anything against it. I'm in Tevinter, after all."

"That wasn't the question," Danarius says. "Answer me honestly. I'm not going to punish you."

"Well... alright... it does make me a little uneasy," I admit reluctantly. "I'm not used to seeing elves like that. I grew up around elves, far, far away from here, and they were the strongest and proudest beings I could imagine."

"Dalish, I presume?" Danarius says. "You're part elf, aren't you? Don't look so nervous. So am I, actually."

To my surprise, he shows me his ears, just a bit pointed and shaped differently than a full human's. Just like mine. I pull back my hair to show him my own, and he grins and chuckles softly.

"If I may ask, ser, if you're part elf, why do you treat them so badly?" I ask.

"I don't see why I should feel some kinship toward them because of a little shared blood. Should I also feel kinship to every human as well?"

"I see your point," I say. "You're right, of course. It's just foolish sentimentality on my part, I think. ... Although it's a little disturbing how much Fenris reminds me of my grandmother."

"Your grandmother?" Danarius raises an eyebrow.

"Heh," I say. "Yeah. She had a big sword, and she was quite the warrior."

"I see," Danarius says. "And are you normally attracted to people who remind you of your grandmother?"

"What?" I sputter. "Wait... what?"

Danarius chuckles softly. "There's no need to be ashamed. I've seen the way you look at him. He's a true work of art, isn't he?"

"I... um..."

Danarius seems to be enjoying some great joke at my expense. I'm speechless.

"Lexen, you're blushing."

"I am not!"

"You're a virgin, aren't you," Danarius says. "Yes, I see that blush. You know, if you like, I can have Fenris take care of that for you."

"No!"

"No?" Danarius says. "Too embarrassed, huh?"

"That's not it!" I protest.

"Then what is it, hmm?" Danarius asks.

"I don't... I don't want to sleep with another man's property."

"Ah, I see," Danarius says, nodding. "I understand."

The next day, I wake up to find an unfamiliar male elf in my quarters.

"Gah!" I jump in surprise. "Who are you?"

"I am Harel. Danarius has given me to you to be your personal slave, Master. It is an honor to serve you."

I see. So this is how Danarius interprets my squeamishness. Damn. This is awkward. I rub my forehead.

"Are you displeased, Master?" Harel asks.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault," I say. "You've done nothing wrong."

"As you say, Master," Harel says. "Is there anything I can do for you, Master?"

"Well, for starters... I'd prefer if you didn't call me Master."

"I see," he says in some puzzlement. "Is there something you'd prefer me to call you instead?"

"If we're just by ourselves, just call me Lexen. If Danarius is around or in a more formal, public setting, then you can call me by my title: Stormseeker."

"Very well. As you wish, Lexen."

"Secondly, if you have a problem with something, or there's something you'd rather not do, tell me, please," I say. "In private."

"I will do anything you wish of me, Lexen."

"That's not my point," I say. "You see, I don't really like slavery. But I don't think it's any real solution to make a stink about it and try to free all the slaves, either. That wouldn't end well for anyone involved, I don't think. So I'll offer you this, to be a slave in name only, to keep up in appearances in public, but otherwise, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Is that acceptable?"

"You... are too kind, M-- Lexen."

"So, with that squared away... tell me about yourself, Harel, if you will. Do you have any family? What are your skills? What sort of food do you like? What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?" Harel repeats in confusion.

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure why you're interested, but... lavender."

I sit cross-legged near the edge of the bed and watch him curiously. "Go ahead, sit down and relax. I just want to talk and get to know you a bit, if that's alright with you."

"I don't mind," Harel says. "You'll forgive me if this seems somewhat strange to me. I'm not used to being treated as... an equal? You're a powerful magister. You could have anything you want, but you give consideration to a lowly slave like me. I guess I just don't really understand why."

"Well, you're right, I do like getting what I want," I say. "But power, magic, wealth and influence, can't buy you real friends. I would rather have people do help me because they want to, rather than because they have to."

"I see, I think," Harel says. "Well... I'm told I'm good in bed. And I can cook. And clean."

I stare at him for a long moment. "So... why would Danarius think I'd be attracted to you? No offense."

Harel looks at me in confusion. "You mean you're... not interested in having sex with me?"

"Erm. As I said, no offense, you're just not really my type, you know?"

"I see," Harel says uneasily. "Well, what is your type, then?"

I think about that for a few moments. "Strong. Graceful. Confident. Deadly."

In others words, Fenris, although he's a little too compliant at the moment, I'll blame that on his slave status. I'd also be lying if I claimed to have been entirely unattracted to Rispy, as well.

"Ah. I see," Harel says. "I hope you do not think less of me for it."

"Not at all," I say. "I'd be more than grateful to have you as a friend. I'm just not interested in you... that way."

"Very well. I don't mind." He smiles at me, but I stare off, finding myself thinking of Fenris again. And Rispy. What is it about that 'type' that I apparently find so attractive? I hadn't really thought about it before.

"I like strawberries," Harel says suddenly. "And peaches."

"What?"

"You asked me what kind of food I like."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, was distracted for a moment there."

"You were grinning about something," Harel points out.

"Um... I was thinking about Fenris."

"I see." Harel is grinning back at me, as if sharing a most delightful little secret with me.

"Would you like some breakfast, Lexen?" Harel asks. "You've asked me what kind of food I like, but you haven't mentioned what you prefer. I enjoy cooking and I'd be happy to make for you whatever you'd like."

"Ah... I like meat. Any kind of meat. Especially if it's saucy."

Harel gets a crooked grin on his face. "Very well, then. Saucy meat, coming right up."

"That sounded bad, didn't it."

"Yes, it did. I shall return shortly."

"Be sure to get something for yourself, too." I laugh softly and watch him leave. At least he has a sense of humor. I get up off the bed and go to get myself dressed.

I've acquired a fairly nice wardrobe of lovely robes during my time in Tevinter. Elegant, stylish, these magisters certainly know how to dress pretentiously. If I were to wear some of these things anywhere else, I'd probably wind up with templars swarming all over me in minutes. Or not, considering that the templars seem pretty dense in general, for the most part.

Harel returns a little bit later carrying a tray of food.

"Mm. That smells delicious," I say.

"I hope the taste is as agreeable."

He sets the tray down on the table and lays out the dishes and silverware. I smile a little as I notice that he's brought for himself a plate of pancakes topped in strawberries and a bowl of peaches and whipped cream. For my part, I grin a little when I see the saucy sausages on my plate. There's also a couple of warm muffins, a piece of ham smothered in a mushroom sauce, and a glass of juice.

"I'm glad to see you eating something you enjoy too."

 

"Normally, slaves would not be allowed such treats," Harel says. "We tend to be fed fairly poorly. I thank you for your indulgence."

"Well, if it would get you in trouble, I'd suggest keeping it to my quarters, then. I think I'll have to imply to Danarius that we _were_ having sex. Maybe that'll keep his nose out of my business... and give me an excuse to complain if he doesn't knock."

"Probably a good idea, yes," Harel says. "I fear what he might do if he thought you had rejected his gift."

"Mmm," I say. "And the food is just as delicious as it smells."

"Thank you."

"By the way, Danarius wanted me to remind you that this afternoon's magical practice will be in the courtyard rather than the training room."

"Ah, right, thank you," I say. "I'd almost forgotten."

Maybe I'll get to watch Fenris in action again today. It's always a joy just to watch him move. He's like a dancer when he has a blade in his hand, ready to deliver swift death to anyone that stands in his way.

"You're grinning again," Harel says. "Thinking about Fenris?"

"We just met, am I already that predictable?"

Harel laughs lightly. "You're an infatuated youth. Of course you are."

"Alright, you may have a point... But hey, you can't be more than a few years older than me!"

"True," Harel says. "So I _know_ what it's like to be an infatuated youth."

I meet up with Danarius in the courtyard. Sadly, Fenris is nowhere in sight at the moment.

"Good day, Lexen," Danarius says. "Did you like my gift?"

"Yes, ser, I do appreciate it."

Danarius gives a leer. "Excellent."

But I get the unspoken implication. I think he wants me to stop paying so much attention to _his_ toy. But then why would he have offered to have Fenris have sex with me, then? No matter. I don't pretend to understand his thought processes.

"So, Lexen, do you think you're ready to test your skills in actual combat?"

"Yes, ser."

"Such confidence is admirable," Danarius says. "We'll be heading to Seheron soon to aid in the war effort against the Qunari."

"We'll be fighting Qunari, ser?"

"That we are," Danarius says. "We're going to take that island in the name of the Imperium once and for all. I expect that you'll prove yourself ably by slaughtering the beast-men by the dozens, hmm?"

"I will certainly try, ser."

"You looked a little uneasy there for a moment," Danarius says. "Have you had experience with the Qunari before?"

"You could say that."

"Then you'll know what to expect, I hope."

"I'll expect them to behave in no way that I would consider reasonable for a rational being," I reply.

"That's about the right of it, yes," Danarius says.

Seheron is a wild place, full of jungles and blood and death. Danarius didn't tell me just how badly the war was really going. He let me see it for myself. The Tevinters fight for every stretch of land, tooth and nail and spell, but the Qunari beat them back every time.

I have little doubt that if the Qunari actually wanted to conquer the world, they might just succeed. And I suspect that they will do so, when they are good and ready.

But if they do that, the fate of mages in this world will be even more grim than it already is. Whatever I might think of the Qunari... I can't allow that to happen. My Tevinter compatriots appreciate the renewed vigor with which I cast my magic at the enemy. Although there are common foot soldiers here as well as mages, it's pretty clear from both sides that they're intended as little more than meat shields for the magisters.

But, despite my own efforts and that of my allies, the Qunari push us back to the shore. The survivors regroup in our outpost on the coast.

Danarius comes to speak with me once we've secured the area. At least this is a decent defensible position. "You fought well out there. We're heading back to Minrathous. There's nothing more we can do here today."

"We're retreating?" I ask.

It's pretty clear that the Tevinters have underestimated the Qunari technology and overestimated their own magic. There might be a way to win this yet, but it'll require a good deal of resources and preparation, and more influence than I currently possess. But it's worth thinking about, nonetheless.

"Yes, for now," Danarius says. "We'll be on the next ship out of here."

I give Danarius a long, thoughtful look. "More blood and less glory than you were hoping for, ser?"

Danarius opens his mouth as if to say something in protest, thinks better of it, and sighs. He lowers his voice and speaks for my ears only.

"It's strange how you seem to be more accustomed to this than I. Now I see why we're truly losing this war. For all the magisters bluster about, safe in their towers, they don't know what war is truly like on the front lines. It's not pretty. And it's not glorious. And even for all my power I felt like I accomplished nothing. I don't know what it is about you. You can't be more than fifteen, and you act it most of the time, but the minute you found yourself in an actual combat situation, you seemed like a hardened war veteran. I have to wonder, what happened to you as a child? Did something unfortunate befall your Dalish clan?"

"I... would rather not speak of it, ser," I murmur.

Danarius just gives a nod of understanding.

When our ship arrives, people are crowding on board it, in a rush to get off of this Maker-forsaken island.

The ship's captain stops Danarius as we try to get on board. "If you want on this ship, you'll have to leave the elf behind. I barely have room for your apprentice, never mind any slaves!"

I'm glad I didn't bring Harel along. I didn't think it would be good to bring a non-combatant into a war zone, so I left him behind in Minrathous. Danarius is furious. He takes a look to Fenris, as if torn, working his face into a variety of interesting expressions.


	14. Fog Warrior

I don't say a word. I sigh and turn away from Fenris, and board the ship in silence. Reluctantly, Danarius boards the ship, with an uneasy glance toward the jungle beyond the outpost.

I don't know what Fenris will do in this place all alone. My heart is wrenched at leaving him here like this, but perhaps, I think, it is for the best. Maybe he'll take the opportunity to get away. Better for him to be free, even without me, than for him to be Danarius's slave.

Back in Tevinter, Danarius is already setting into motion plans to retrieve his property. But it still takes months before he can draw upon the resources, get a ship and men to return to Seheron to track him down.

"I want you to stay behind this time," Danarius says. "I may be gone a while, but I'm not coming back without him if I can help it. I want you to oversee things while I am gone. The day-to-day business should be covered for, but if anything unexpected arises, I'll trust your judgment to do something sensible about it."

"As you wish, Danarius."

It's a lot of trust to be putting in someone so young. I think he's realized by now that treating me like the child I appear to be, isn't entirely appropriate.

However, I am unhappy with my decision to leave Fenris behind like that. I decide to go back and make a different choice.

* * *

"Then I will stay behind as well," I tell the captain.

Danarius looks to me with surprise. "Lexen?"

"I'll make sure no harm comes to him," I say.

Danarius says, "That was not exactly what I was concerned about."

I smirk at him. "We'll be fine. Go on. Get yourself to safety. We'll make our way out of here when we can."

"Very well, apprentice," Danarius says. "Bring him back to me. And yourself. You are both very valuable to me."

I don't make any promises. I just nod faintly to him as he boards the ship and sails away.

"You stayed... for my safety, or just to secure Danarius's property?" Fenris says quietly.

"I stayed for your sake," I say. "I don't know about you, but I'm personally glad to be out from under Danarius's thumb for the moment."

"But, you're his favorite apprentice," Fenris says. "He'd give you anything you want..."

"I just hope he doesn't do anything to Harel in the meantime."

I'd like nothing better than to run off with Fenris and never set foot in Minrathous again. Perhaps that was one of Danarius's motivations in giving me the slave. He might have realized I'd become attached to him quickly, even if he didn't think it would be in a strictly non-sexual way.

"You put a lot of concern into the well-being of slaves," Fenris says.

"Why shouldn't I?" I say. "Slaves are people to. I don't go in for Danarius's methods and I don't approve of his abuse."

"Yet you stand by and say nothing nonetheless?" Fenris asks hesitantly.

"That doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it," I say. "I've been trying to learn what I can from him. And I know perfectly well that protesting against slavery in Tevinter would be like arguing for the rights of mice in front of a congregation of cats."

"You are... not what I expected," Fenris says. "I appreciate you remaining with me. What are your plans now?"

"Stay alive. Beyond that, I haven't thought that far ahead yet." I look around thoughtfully at the deserted outpost. "I doubt we'll be able to defend this fort by ourselves. With only two people, it'll be best to keep mobile, and slip beneath their sight. We can move and strike faster than an army could."

Fenris gives a nod.

"Let's strip the place of supplies first, though," I say. "They left a lot behind. That boat could barely manage to get all the people out and enough supplies to make it back to Minrathous."

"How will we carry them?"

I give him a grin. "Watch this."

I find a nearby supply crate packed full of rations, and drop it into my little pouch. Space seems to warp around the crate for a moment as it twists and shrinks, and slips inside.

"A magic bag," Fenris says. "Useful. How much can it hold?"

"Quite a lot," I say. "I'm not aware of any upper limit, but it certainly shouldn't have any trouble with these provisions. Keep watch for me while I collect things, will you?"

Fenris gives a nod and climbs up on top of the wall to watch for enemies approaching while I bag up everything that isn't nailed down. I take the opportunity to change out of my robes and put away my staff, as well. I finish what I'm doing and go see Fenris.

"You changed your clothes?" Fenris asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Too many people on this island who would attack a Tevinter magister on sight. Best not to be one, wouldn't you say?"

"Speaking of which," Fenris says. "It appears we have company. They haven't noticed us yet."

He nods in the direction of the jungle, where an eclectic group of warriors is approaching.

"Three elves, a human, and a Qunari?" I murmur. "They aren't wearing the signs of either side, for that matter. Strange. I wonder who they are?"

"We could take them, if need be," Fenris says. "Should we flee, or confront them?"

"Let's go see if they're in a mood to chat," I say. "But be ready in case they're feeling unfriendly."

We head down and approach them. They look at us warily, and I lift my hands in the air to show I mean them no harm. That gesture would probably be considerably less effective if I were more obviously a mage.

"Were you with the Tevinters?" one of them asks.

"Yes," I reply. "They didn't have any room on their ships for slaves when they retreated, though. So we got left behind."

"That's despicable," the man says. "Leaving two men alone here, like they were just extra supplies to be tossed aside?"

"You are not Tevinters," Fenris asks. "Are you with the Qunari?"

"No. We're Fog Warriors. We want Seheron to be free from both sides."

"You're going up against near-hopeless odds, but I admire your goals," I say.

"You can join us, if you like," he says. "I can't imagine abandoned slaves having any love for the Imperium."

"What do you think, Fenris?" I glance to Fenris, hoping for an opinion. He looks a bit surprised to be asked.

"As good as anywhere else, I suppose," Fenris replies.

I nod in agreement.

"We'll be glad to have you," the Fog Warrior says.

These Fog Warriors must be awfully desparate, I think. They lead us back to their main camp, where there's a few dozen more Fog Warriors arrayed in a small valley. They welcome us as their own, and offer us food and bedrolls. When no one is looking, I quietly add another couple crates of provisions to their supplies.

At night, Fenris takes me aside to speak to me quietly, glancing about to make sure that he's not overheard. "I did not realize that you are so skilled at deception. Why did you imply that you are also a slave?"

"It seemed more likely to get me not immediately shot at, and I had no desire to have to kill them."

"Most magisters would be too proud to stoop to such an act, even to save themselves from certain death," Fenris says thoughtfully. "And even if they deigned to do so, their behavior would give them away easily. Yet you slipped into the role as if it were natural."

"I've played many roles in my life, and I've worn many masks," I say. "There's a question to tease at your mind. Which is the mask, the slave or the magister? Perhaps both, perhaps neither?"

"You seem... less tense, now," Fenris says. "Back in Tevinter, you were always wound up tight, ready to spring, always watching over your shoulder. Yet here, in the midst of a war zone, you are relaxed. It seems strange."

"You're very observant," I say. "You're right. To be honest with you... I was afraid of Danarius. Trapped by circumstances, and afraid to let my true thoughts or feelings show, for fear of what might happen because of it."

"You are, indeed, not what you seem," Fenris says. "The question that leaves, of course, is what you _are_. For instance, I have never heard mention of a bag like yours among even magisters as powerful as Danarius."

"Heh," I say. "Good reason I never told him about it. He'd want one."

"Indeed," Fenris agrees. "But if you had access to magic beyond that of the magisters, why did you apprentice yourself to Danarius?"

"I wanted to see what he could teach me. Though I question whether I would wish to do so again."

We stay with the Fog Warriors for a time as I formulate my plans. It's refreshing to be around them, really. I'm reluctant to return to Danarius's side, but I won't leave Harel to his tender mercies. If it weren't for him, I would take Fenris and vanish, never to be seen again.

One night, I take Fenris aside and speak with him quietly. "I'm going to need to go back."

"Don't you mean we?" Fenris asks.

"Do you really want to return to Danarius?" I say. "I don't plan on staying with him. I just want to grab Harel and get out of there."

"I see," Fenris says. "You risked yourself for me, and you would risk yourself for another slave as well?"

"You still sound surprised?" I say. "Slaves are still people. And he's still my friend."

"I did not realize you were truly so... affectionate with him."

My cheeks are burning and I look away, shaking my head. "It's not like that. Danarius gave him to me in hopes of giving me... um... pleasures. I wasn't actually attracted to him, though, and nothing of the sort happened, although I impied to Danarius that it did."

"You are a very strange mage," Fenris says. "Were you not interested in men, then?"

I find myself blushing even more fiercely at this line of questioning. "Gah, no, no, that's not it. He's just not really my type, you know?"

"Is something wrong, Lexen? Are you... blushing?"

I take a deep breath, trying to get control of myself. Shazmar, I want him. I want him _now_. He's everything I could hope for in a man. I hear a voice whispering in my mind. A feminine, seductive voice, offering me the power to take everything I want for myself... No. No, damnit. I don't need any demons to do that. I shudder involuntarily and clench my eyes shut for a long moment.

"Lexen, are you well?"

"Give me a moment, please."

I get a hold of myself and strengthen my mental barriers. No way a demon should have been able to get close enough to me that I could hear its whispered temptations. I'm not giving in to temptations. If I should make any deals with demons, it will be by my own choice, not for want of strength of will.

I let out a breath and look at him. Damn. I still want him.He's just watching me with concern, waiting patiently for me to compose myself. "Er... sorry about that, Fenris."

"If you are uncomfortable speaking of the matter, I will not pry."

"It's not that, not really," I assure him.

"Then what is it?" Fenris asks.

"Well... it's just that... um... I'm attracted to _you_ , Fenris. And Danarius realized that, and that's why he gave me Harel."

Fenris raises an eyebrow and gives me a surprised look. "I... see. And... that's why you were not interested in Harel? I'm your... type, then?"

"Of course, I'm not comfortable with the idea of... having sex with a slave, in general. It seems too much like rape to me."

"Most magisters would not hold the same compunctions."

"Yeah. I know," I say. "It kind of disgusts me, really... But I was too wrapped up in trying to focus on my studies to plot on how I might steal you away from Danarius or something. And he'd probably kill me, anyway."

Fenris is quiet for a time, watching me. He must be trying to sort through his own thoughts. "So... you are... attracted to me. I suppose I should not be surprised."

This has gone poorly. I didn't mean to babble out things like this. It's enough to make me commit suicide in mortification.


	15. Saarebas

"Surely the ship won't sink just because it has an extra lithe elf on board," I say to the captain as we're leaving Seheron.

"We're barely going to be able to carry enough provisions to get us back to Minrathous as it is!" the captain protests.

"Then don't worry about provisions for the three of us," I say. "That'll spare enough room, right?"

"I suppose when you die of dehydration, we can just throw your corpses overboard, then."

I smirk at him. I'm not really worried about it. I'd be an idiot if I didn't fill up my bag of holding with enough food and water to last me quite a while if needed.

"While I appreciate the effort, Lexen, are you certain that this will actually help?" Danarius asks.

"Trust me, alright?" I say.

"Very well," Danarius says.

No, this wasn't the proper choice either, I think.

* * *

"He can take my place, then," I say.

"What?" Danarius says in shock.

"I said--" the captain begins.

"You said there is room for me," I interrupt. "Give it to Fenris, then. I'll stay behind for now."

"Fine!" the captain says with a snort. "If the cursed slave means so much to you, I'll take him and leave you here, then!"

Danarius sends Fenris aboard and takes me aside for a quick chat before he gets aboard himself. "I hope you know what you're doing, Lexen."

"I'll be fine," I say. "And if I get killed, you can complain to my corpse. But at least the time spent training me will have been put toward putting many Qunari down."

"I can appreciate that, I suppose," Danarius says. "Don't tell anyone I said so, but I daresay you're better at it than I am. Good luck, Lexen."

I nod to him as he turns to board the ship, and keep watching as they sail away, leaving me behind. Alone. The outpost is abandoned completely. Every last survivor is crammed aboard that ship. Soon, I imagine, the Qunari will realize that this structure is no longer being defended, and swarm over it, taking everything that might still be of use to them. I slip away while I still have the chance, vanishing into the jungles.

But it's not easy being alone and on the run, on an island full of hostile forces. Although I can move quickly and quietly, most of the time, I still wind up fighting more than I would like to. Qunari patrols, tracking me down, sniffing me out. I destroy as many of them as I can with my magic, but they still keep coming.

Finally, they overwhelm me. There's too many of them, and too soon. I know the minute I spot them that I cannot defeat them all. I'm already drained and exhausted from the last battle, and haven't had a chance to rest.

"Bas Saarebas, kneel and submit to the Qun!"

Surrender? Not bloody likely. But at this point, if I want to fight, I'll be resorting to fisticuffs and harsh language. I can barely stand as it is.

But the demons sense my weakness, and whisper opportunities in my head. The power to destroy my enemies, with such a tiny price... I clench my eyes shut and murmur back a reply. "No, demons. The power you offer is not worth the price."

I let out a heavy sigh and drop heavily to my knees, unable to fight any longer. Perhaps I can turn this into an opportunity. Learn more about the Qunari. Knowledge is power, after all. Maybe I'll be able to discover a way to bring them down.

"I did not expect that you would comply, basra vashedan," the Qunari says. "You have slain many of our brethren. But now you submit? Don't your kind usually turn to demons when they grow desparate?"

"I told the demons 'no'," I reply. "My mind is not that weak. But I am beaten. Go ahead. Chain me up. Collar me. Or just kill me, if you'd prefer."

"The Qun wastes nothing. Not even Saarebas."

I give a weary nod and let them drag me off. Why didn't I give in to the demons? I could destroy many, many Qunari, with that sort of power at my fingertips. But no. I value my own mind too much. I would rather live as myself and die as myself.

Soon enough, they collar me up, put on the heavy chains, and bind me, physically and magically. I hadn't realized before just how restrained the Saarebas are. They're prisoners in their own bodies, bent to be nothing more than tools of the Qun. Weapons that even their wielders fear to use.

But I submit. I behave properly compliantly. My mind is my own, however. I watch. I learn. Although I'm bound in such a way that only an Arvaarad can understand my words, I pick up much of the Qunari language.

Months pass. I wonder if Danarius has given me up for dead. But I do not fear. I will see Fenris again. Though perhaps not in this lifetime. I can be patient, however. I'm learning a lot of valuable information. I also kill many Tevinters.

Then, one day... I see Fenris. He's coming through the trees, perhaps trying to be stealthy, but if he is, he's not doing a very good job of it. Danarius is nowhere in sight. Fenris is alone. What's going on here?

"Saarebas," Arvaarad says. "Kill that elf."

"No."

The Arvaarad gives me a look of shock at my defiance. I'd never so much as hesitated at an order before. But this is one I will not follow, even if it kills me.

"You defy me now?" Arvaarad says.

"I know that elf," I reply. "The last time I saw him, he was a slave to the magister who taught me. That magister is nowhere in sight. I do not believe he would have allowed the elf to come here alone."

"I see," Arvaarad says. "Then why is he here, I wonder?"

"He's looking for me."

Fenris approaches, his weapon still sheathed. He raises his hands to show that he means no harm, at the moment anyway. "Lexen..." When he sees me, he stares at me, wide-eyed.

"He has submitted to the Qun," Arvaarad tells him.

"So I see," Fenris says. "I'm just...surprised. I can't imagine that you've had many Tevinter magisters surrender to you."

"This is true," Arvaarad says.

"So he tried to help me in order to sacrifice himself like this... It's hard to believe."

"Did you escape from Danarius?" I ask.

The Arvaarad glances aside at me, and apparently decides that this would be a useful thing to know, so relays my question to Fenris, who seems all the more surprised at seeing just how constrained I am.

"It wasn't easy, but I got away from him," Fenris says. "He's here on Seheron, looking for you. If the Qun demands that he should die, then it has my blade."

And so Fenris becomes Viddethari. The Qunari welcome him in, considerably more happily about it than they had recruited this Saarebas. I'm more comfortable with Fenris around, and I think my Arvaarad noticed that my effectivity in combat just went up substantially because of it. Yeah, I'll admit that with Fenris here, I actually have something worth fighting for, rather than just blindly going along with it all.

Then Danarius catches up with us. Or should I say, we catch up with Danarius. My karataam catches him off guard in the night and lays waste to his campsite.

Danarius isn't so easy to kill, however. "What is this? Fenris? Lexen? You both betray me?"

"I have found my freedom in the Qun, Danarius," Fenris says. "It's time for you to die."

"But... Lexen... You were the most talented apprentice I ever had... How could you join them?" Danarius wonders.

I don't even bother to answer. I smother the twinge of guilt I feel at this by reminding myself of everything he's done. All the slaves he's tormented or killed for no reason. All the times I suspect he has raped Fenris...

Rage fills me and lightning roars from my fingertips with a rumble of thunder. Danarius falls limply to the ground.

Fenris approaches the fallen mage, turning his body over with his foot. Danarius still lives. Barely.

"It ends here," Fenris says. "You are my master no longer." Fenris drives his blade home into Danarius's chest.

We return with the Qunari. Fenris is chosen to be an Arvaarad, and we spend several months training. My Arvaarad. I'll do anything for him. I regret having to leave behind Harel. But there's no way to go back for him now.

Far away from here, the Blight is beginning. Can I still help Rispy?

"This home tastes like ashes," Fenris says.

I look at him in surprise. "You don't like it here?"

"The Qunari have welcomed me and taken me in, and given me a role. And I will not shirk at that role. I will protect you from yourself with my life if need be. And yet... I do not wish to stay here."

"Where would you have us go?" I ask.

"Anywhere."

"Then we should go to Ferelden."

Fenris looks at me strangely. "Danarius said you were originally from Ferelden, yes? Raised by some Dalish elves there?"

"Would we be Tal-Vashoth if we left, though?" I wonder.

"Only if we were to abandon the Qun in the doing, and I have no intention of doing that."

"I think the Arishok sent the Beresaad to Ferelden, to learn about the Blight," I say.

"There is a Blight?" Fenris asks in surprise.

"Just beginning, I think. It would... be bad if it were to spread beyond Ferelden, I think."

"There is a sound purpose to your words," Fenris says. "A demand of the Qun, you might say."

"Yes," I agree. "You might say that."

We don't even need to sneak away or try to run off or anything, for that matter. We're given permission to... follow our demand of the Qun, and seek out the Blight. The Arishok suggests joining up with the Beresaad if we find them. I don't mention that I know exactly what's going to happen to them, and that Sten will need all the help he can get.

So. We travel south, to Ferelden. We aren't too far behind the Beresaad, thankfully. But I doubt that we'll catch up with them in time to save them from the darkspawn, however.

I feel surprisingly relaxed and at ease, given my situation. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm with Fenris, and that he has vowed to protect me. But after spending a year in it, this collar seems light as a feather compared to the weight of constantly warding off demons. And my own temptations.

We land on the shores of Ferelden.

"Ferelden is a big place," Fenris says. "I wonder where the Beresaad might have gone? I'll do some asking around. A group of Qunari would be fairly conspicuous around here."

"Yeah," I say. "I'm already getting stares, and I'm not even a kossith. Though I imagine your markings are attracting some attention as well."

"Indeed."

After some questioning of the locals, Fenris determines that the Beresaad were last seen heading toward Lake Calenhad. We reach Lake Calenhad too late to save them, however, as I had feared. There's hardly anything remaining to tell that there had even been a battle here.

"I think we will not be finding the Beresaad..." Fenris says quietly.

Some questioning of the locals here reveals that one Qunari survived the battle. Following that trail points us toward Lothering.

As we approach the city from the north, the familiar sounds of the Qunari tongue can be heard.

"Shok ebasit hissra," Sten is saying. "Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun--"

"Maraas shokra," Fenris adds. "Anaan esaam Qun."

Sten looks up in surprise when he hears Fenris finish his recitation. "I did not expect to hear my own tongue here."

"I am Arvaarad. We came here searching for the Beresaad. But all we found were scattered bones."

"The Arishok sent Saarebas here?" Sten says, looking to me in surprise.

"Yes," Fenris says. "He bade us to come to follow our own demand of the Qun."

"Then perhaps you will succeed where I failed. I will be dead soon, myself."

"Why are you locked in that cage?" Fenris asks.

"I am shamed," Sten says. "In a moment of weakness, I killed a family of humans, because I had panicked over losing my sword."

"I see," Fenris says. "It is not my place to judge you in that, however."

"Isn't it?" Sten says. "You are Arvaarad. You hold back evil. You hold Saarebas's leash. You hunt the Tal-Vashoth. Slay me quickly, or leave me for the darkspawn. I deserve no less for my crimes."

"And the Qun wastes nothing," Fenris replies. "I see no evil here. I believe you have already learned from your mistakes. Now atone for them, and aid us."

"Very well. If the Revered Mother agrees to release me, I will follow you, Arvaarad."

We head into the Chantry. The templars look like they want to stop and question us, but think better of it and go back to what they were doing.

The Revered Mother frowns at us as we approach. "What is this? An elf leading around a human in a collar? Tell me he isn't some sort of slave, is he?"

"No," Fenris says. "He is Saarebas, and he submitted to this voluntarily, as the Qun demands. He is a Qunari mage, and I am his Arvaarad, his keeper. I watch over him to ensure that he does not fall prey to demons or corruption."

"I see," the Revered Mother says. "You are... Qunari then, despite your appearances, you say? Then you must have come for the one in the cage, I assume."

"You are correct," Fenris says. "Would you be willing to release him into my custody? I will deal with his crimes appropriately."

"Very well. I trust that you will do so. He murdered an entire family. Including children. Please, whatever you do with him take him away from here. I don't want to see him in this village another day."

"I shall do so," Fenris says. "My thanks, Revered Mother."

We go outside and free Sten from his cage. He steps outside and inclines his head toward Fenris. "So it is done. My life is yours, Arvaarad."  
"  
t's growing late, and not wanting to risk anyone's ire by staying too close to the village, we set up camp a short ways to the north, although still within sight of the buildings.

"How long has he been in that cage?" I ask. Fenris relays the question to Sten.

"Nineteen days," Sten answers.

Great. My timing was nigh-perfect. I couldn't have planned it better. All we need to do is just meet up with Rispy's team tomorrow.

"Just as well we're not hanging around town too much," Fenris says. "People were starting to ask uncomfortable questions about my charge." He snorts in amusement at that. "Usually, it's me who's getting the odd stares and uncomfortable questions directed about me."

"You are a strange sight for me as well," Sten says. "I've seen plenty of elven and human Qunari, but the two of you are... different somehow."

"Yes, I can't imagine many Tevinter magisters would willingly submit to this. And yet he did. I was a slave to his former teacher, before we found the Qun."

Sten stares at me appraisingly, looking somewhat surprised. "He was a magister? That is... highly unusual. I'm surprised that they even allowed him to become Saarebas rather than simply killing him, as well. Even a Saarebas outside his karataam is at risk for corruption, but years with magisters?"

"If they had tried to kill him, there would be a lot more dead Qunari between the two of us," Fenris says.

"Perhaps," Sten says. "Still, how did he become so compliant?"

"By choice," I say.

"It was his choice," Fenris says.

"I see," Sten says. "Still an unusual choice for a magister, but one worthy of respect."

The night passes, and morning arrives.

"We should restock our supplies before going anywhere, wherever we might be going next," I say.

"True," Fenris says. "Sten, stay here and watch the camp. Saarebas and I are going into the village for supplies."

Sten gives a nod, and the two of us head into town again.

We head first into the tavern to see what we can scrounge up there.

As we go through town, I overhear some men talking. "Did you hear about that bounty on Grey Wardens? I sure could use that coin. What were their descriptions again? A blonde human man in armor, and a dwarf with a tattoo on his face wearing leather? The dwarf at least should certainly stand out around here, I'd say."

"What did the Grey Wardens do?" Fenris asks. "Is there not a Blight going on?"

"They killed the king, so I hear. Led him into a trap, got him torn apart by darkspawn. Course, it backfired on them, since most of them got killed as well."

Fenris scowls. "That seems a very poor plot, and a rather flimsy reason to put a bounty on someone's head."

"Eh, I don't care about the politics," the man says. "I just need that coin."

"You'd be better off getting your coin doing something other than trying to take on Grey Wardens," Fenris suggests.

"Oy, you might have a point there, elf. I don't fancy getting myself killed."

We finish up gathering supplies and return to the camp with Sten. After discovering that Sten hadn't eaten in so long, Fenris is determined to get some food into his stomach, regardless of how long Sten claims to be able to go without food and still be fine.

"Apparently, there was a disastrous battle down at Ostagar recently," Fenris says. "But two of the Grey Wardens survived. We should try to find them and perhaps join up with them."

"That would be wise," Sten says. "I have heard of the fighting prowess of the Grey Wardens. And they would know about the Blight, if anyone would."

"If they're heading north from Ostagar, they may pass through Lothering soon," Fenris says. "Let's remain here for the moment."

Sure enough, we don't even need to wait more than a few hours before a group comes striding in our direction up from Lothering. Rispy, Alistair, Morrigan, and the mabari hound. It's good to see them again, even if the circumstances are a little different.

"Were you waiting for us?" Rispy says. "I'm hoping that you aren't looking to kill us, too. Unlike that last group we ran across, you look like you might be able to succeed."

Fenris chuckles softly. "Not at all. We were hoping to assist you against the Blight."

"Ah," Rispy says. "Well, in that case, I'm not crazy enough to turn down aid, but I have to question unexpected charity. Who are you, and why are you offering?"

"We are Qunari, sent here to investigate the Blight."

"What's a Qunari?" Rispy asks.

Fenris tries to explain as best as he can to the dwarf who has never left Orzammar before.

"Alright, I can see that that wasn't a simple question," Rispy replies shortly. "But I'll accept your help on those merits for now."

Rispy and his companions join up with our camp.

"We've got a lot of traveling ahead of us. After the loss at Ostagar, we're looking to rebuild an army to fight the Blight. We'll be heading to Redcliffe to start off with."

"A wise course of action," Sten says.

As we settle in for the night, Fenris and Sten continue to explain more about the Qun to Rispy, and answer his curious and insistant questions with an admirable patience." They no doubt appreciate the sincerity of Rispy's interest, and the fact that he's pretty much agreeing with everything they say.


	16. Weapon

The journey is going much as it did before, but with an additional player and me in a new role. Alistair is again telling us about his secret parentage.

"Does that not make you the heir to the kingdom?" Fenris asks, to which Alistair makes a face.

I'm quiet for the most part. I like being around Fenris, and this gives me a lot of time to observe, and perhaps make note of details that I had missed before.

We arrive in Redcliffe and learn of its troubles, and prepare to defend the town.

"Arvaarad, you speak with the blacksmith," Rispy says.

"Very well." Fenris goes over and knocks on the door to the smithy. "Your services are required. Unlock this door."

"Who are you?" the smith calls out. "You're not Murdock."

"No. I'm not," Fenris says. "Now open this door before I break it down."

"Ugh! Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming."

The door opens, and the two of us step inside. The drunken blacksmith stares at us as if trying to decide whether or not we're an alcohol-induced hallucination.

"Blacksmith," Fenris says. "Why have you been refusing to work? The town is in danger and the men need repairs for their equipment. You have been neglecting your duties."

"What does it matter?" the smith says. "My daughter is up there trapped in that castle, and no one cares!"

"Perhaps because they have more immediate problems to worry about at the moment? If everyone dies here tonight, who do you think is going to save your daughter?"

The smith stares at him as if he hadn't thought of that, reason percolating through his sodden mind.

"Now, return to work," Fenris says. "Either your daughter is alive or she's not, but moping around about it won't help her now. Repairing the militia's equipment will."

"Right. Will do. Right away..."

That problem dealt with, we step outside again.

"Someone needs to go talk to the templars," Alistair says.

"You're a former templar, aren't you?" Fenris says. "You speak with them. I don't care to explain to anyone else what a Saarebas is today."

"Understandable. I'll go do that."

"The blacksmith has resumed his duties," Fenris tells the others when they return from their own tasks.

Alistair comes back down the hill after speaking with the templars. "The templars want aid from the Maker, it seems."

"They shouldn't hold their breaths," Fenris says.

Rispy says, "Alistair, check the Chantry and see if you can find anything that'll boost their morale."

"Alright, then..." He heads inside, leaving Rispy grumbling.

"I'll never understand why otherwise intelligent people insist on deluding themselves like that," Rispy mutters.

Alistair returns a little bit later to distribute completely non-magical amulets to the templars.

"What's the point in that?" Morrigan wonders. "They aren't even enchanted!"

"I don't know," Alistair says.

"Well, at least you admit it," Morrigan says.

After the battle against the undead, a templar approaches me and Fenris to thank us for our help and let me know that they'll overlook me being an apostate.

"My thanks for that, but my charge is a Saarebas, not an apostate," Fenris explains. "A Qunari mage."

"Is that what that collar means?" the templar says. "But the two of you aren't giants."

"Qunari are beings of any race who follow the Qun," Fenris says. "We are not kossith, but we are followers of the Qun."

"Well, as you say. Carry on, then."

We head down into the tunnel below the lake. Rispy brings along Fenris, myself, and Sten, leaving behind the rest of the party to wait outside the gates. Jowan is standing in his cell just where I expected him to be. But he doesn't recognize me. I never went to the Circle Tower in this time stream.

"A mage in a cell?" Fenris says. "What did you do?"

"I'm Jowan... Oh, everything has gone horribly wrong."

"That's an understatement," Rispy says.

Jowan proceeds to babble out a full confession of the extent of his crimes. Sure, he's not responsible for the undead, but he did poison the arl, was unwise in his teachings of the arl's son, and furthermore he's an apostate blood mage.

"I've done terrible things," Jowan says. "I should die for what I've done."

"I say we give him what he wants," Sten says.

"This is what happens when mages are not properly controlled," Fenris points out.

"I'm starting to agree with you," Rispy says.

After executing Jowan, Rispy leads us up to the main floor of the castle, where we find the demon boy playing with his uncle.

"The boy is possessed," Fenris says darkly.

I quietly tell Fenris about a way to save the boy by entering the Fade.

"Saarebas believes there may be an alternative." He proceeds to relay my words uneasily. "I've never heard of anyone being saved from possession in this manner. But I will believe Saarebas if he claims that this is possible. Executing the blood mage was necessary, but slaying the boy needlessly would be a waste."

"We would need more mages, and lyrium," I explain to Fenris.

"I suppose we could go to the Circle of Magi across the lake," Fenris says.

The arlessa begs for mercy for the boy. "They would take him away!"

"He is a mage, and must be controlled," Fenris says. "You have seen for yourself what happens when mages are allowed to lose control of themselves. Nothing but death and destruction."

"After you killed that blood mage like that, you would help my boy?" the arlessa says.

"The blood mage had to die, but at least he owned his mistakes," Fenris says.

We make ready for the trip to the Circle Tower.

"Sten, Arvaarad, and Saarebas will travel with me," Rispy says. "The others will stay here and keep watch."

As we travel, we stop and look for Sten's sword.

"These bas had no idea what they were collecting," Fenris says with a snort of disgust. "The sword has probably already been sold. It could be anywhere."

When we arrive at the Circle Tower, I tell Fenris that it doesn't feel right. Because it _doesn't_ , and not just because I _know_ there's trouble here.

"Saarebas senses something is wrong in this place," Fenris says. "Let us be on our guard."

"Well, I did not expect to see Qunari here, never mind a human Saarebas," Greagoir says.

"And an elven Arvaarad," Fenris adds.

The knight-commander inclines his head respectfully toward Fenris. "The Qunari certainly wouldn't have had the problem we have on our hands now," Greagoir says, and explains the situation at the tower.

"How was this allowed to happen?" Fenris asks. "This entire tower should be purged. But there may be survivors who might just be uncorrupted still."

Even having seen this before, it's still a horrific sight to behold. The Circle Tower, once beautiful and grand, for all that it was effectively a prison to me for several years, now dark and corrupted.

We come upon Wynne holding the line against the abominations.

"Hmm..." Rispy says. "You may not look like an abomination, but how do I know that you're not also possessed?"

"Doubtful, but possible," Fenris says. "She's fighting the other abominations. But I have my doubts that we'll find enough mages to help that possessed child."


	17. Maleficar

Now that I know more about blood magic and influencing people's minds, I return to the timestream where I went apostate with Jowan.

I quietly reach out with my magic to touch the mind of the first templar who starts looking suspiciously at me, silently persuading him that there's nothing interesting to look at here and that he should listen to what I have to say.

"Why are you interested in the castle?" the templar asks me.

"Oy, me cousin is a servant in the castle," I say in my best country bumpkin accent. "I was looking to go see her, maybe she could find me a job, someplace safe from the Blight."

"For a moment there, I thought you looked like an apostate we've been searching for... but you can't be him," the templar says. "Carry on."

The templar moves off and leaves me alone to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. That was a close one. I head on up into the castle, thankful that at least nobody but the templars is likely to suspect me to be an apostate. A thief, perhaps, but not an apostate. But nobody even bothers to stop or question me anymore, so I head inside to search the place. Storerooms, the basement, no luck.

As I'm heading upstairs to check to see if anything might be there, I'm stopped by an elven servant girl. "Oy, there. What are you doing in here? I don't recognize you."

"I was looking for my cousin, but I don't think she's in here," I say. "Sorry to be a bother."

"Well, maybe if you give me a name, I can help."

"Her name is Valena," I say. "Have you seen her?"

"Oh, yeah. I know her," she says. "She's out visiting her father in town. He's the blacksmith. You'll want to head to the smithy."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

I head on out of the castle again and back toward town, having failed to find what I was looking for. So, where else could it be? The chantry, perhaps? At least I can be thankful that if I go through this business again, I won't need to search everywhere to find it again. It's not in the Chantry. I'm starting to get a little frustrated. Maybe I should have taken a look around while I was here as a Grey Warden.

Furthermore, I think Jowan's gotten himself captured. Yeah, sure enough, I see a templar hauling him off. Damnit. I can't get involved without blowing my own cover. I tell myself I'll get him loose once I smash my own phylactery. They probably won't just execute him, or they'd not have bothered taking him anywhere. Probably just going to send him back to the Circle.

Alright, there's some warehouses down by the docks on the lakeshore. Maybe it's being stored in one of those. There, downstairs in the fifth warehouse I try, otherwise full of what appear to be sailing supplies, I find one phylactery tucked away, with my name on it. Just one. Strange. No matter. I don't waste any time in dashing it to bits against the floor.

"I knew you'd come here sooner or later, apostate," a voice says.

Damn. It was a trap all along. I spin around to face three templars, weapons drawn and pointed at me with ill intent.

"Do you think this is normally where we store phylacteries?" the templar says. "Of course not. I had yours moved here to see if I could catch you in an attempt to escape. And you walked right into it."

"So, are you going to try to take me back to the Circle now, or just kill me and claim I resisted arrest?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm not giving you a chance to flee again," the templar says. "I've been watching you for some time. Irving's star pupil... You were too good. Too quick to learn, too powerful, too skilled. I suspected you were practicing forbidden magic, but I could never catch you in the act. But now I have you, maleficar. And now it's time for you to die."

Well, I'm not one to get a good monologue go to waste, so while he's ranting at me, I'm quietly building up for an attack... and I didn't fail to notice the barrels of lamp oil they happen to be standing in front of.

Lightning bolts shoot from my fingertips, striking the three templars, and several barrels of oil. The two flanking ones were killed instantly, having been completely unprepared for the ferocity of my attack, but the talkative one is still alive, albeit now standing in a growing pool of flaming oil.

"You won't get away with this, maleficar!"

Before he can move to safety, I telekinetically grab a nearby coil of rope and entangle him in it, pinning him to the ground. The rope will be burned through eventually, but it'll keep him from getting away for the moment.

"Maker spit on you, maleficar!"

I grab a nearby fishing harpoon. Even if he can still manage to stop any of my spells, he won't be able to stop this.

"Time to die, templar," I say. "Pity, I never even caught your name."

"My name is Ser-- erk..."

I plunge the harpoon through the templar's throat, careful not to get burned myself.

"Ser Erk?" I say with a smirk. "Well, farewell then, Ser Erk. It was nice knowing you."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I go to slip out of the building again. With any luck, anyone finding the place will just think it was an unfortunate accident. Hopefully, the entire town won't burn down in the process. Maybe I should tell someone.

"Oy!" I call out. "Fire! Fire on the docks!"

Yeah, probably for the best, the fire's already starting to spread up out of the basement and up the sides of the building. Everything here is made of wood. Best get that out as soon as possible.

I don't doubt that I still might wind up having templars going after me, but it seems that I've dealt with the one most eager to do so, and made it much more difficult for them to track me in the process. Unless, of course, they were trying to bait me with a fake phylactery, which might be more clever than I'd give the templars credit for.

Now that that's taken care of, I need to try to figure out where Jowan was taken and help him if I can. I spend some time eavesdropping, poking around, and digging up information. It seems that, while Jowan was captured by the templars, he wasn't actually sent back to the tower. Someone else intervened. From what I can gather, he's been sent on a secret mission into Redcliffe Castle.

Well, then. I sneak back into the castle while carrying a barrel. I've found that people are much less likely to bother you if you look like you're probably delivering something. So I've acquired an innocuous keg of ale to deliver into the castle.

I make it inside, and after a bit of searching, I find Jowan's room. "Oy, ser. Did ye order a keg o' ale, or 'ave I got the wrong room?"

Jowan hisses at me and gestures me inside quickly. "Get in here. And your accent is atrocious."

"Heh, sorry," I say, chuckling. "I got to you as soon as I could. What's going on?"

"Well, Arlessa Isolde has hired me on to teach her son magic," Jowan says. "She's trying to keep his powers a secret so that he doesn't have to go to the tower."

I mentally groan. This is happening again? "That's a worthy enough cause. Oh, I still have your robe and staff. Do you want them, or still trying to kind of stay undercover here?"

"I'll take those back, if you don't mind," Jowan says. "I can always hide them again if need be."

I pull them out of my bag of holding and pass them over to him. "So, I guess you don't need rescuing or anything, then?"

"No, I'm fine here for now, but thanks for the effort," Jowan says.

"Yeah," I say. "Let me know if there's anything I can get for you, okay?"

"I'm good for now."

"Oh, by the way, I destroyed my phylactery, along with one particularly vindictive templar who was apparently just trying to set me up to fall."

"That's great," Jowan says. "So you're really free now, great, great."

"I'll be off now, then," I say. "Don't want to draw any suspicions or anything. You want me to leave the keg with you, or just take it down to the kitchen?"

"I think I'll be needing that myself, if you don't mind."

"Alright," I say. "I guess we'll be parting ways for the moment, then. I'll be hanging around town for a little bit if you need anything. I think I've gotten pretty good at blending in."

"Maker watch over you, Lexen."

"Yeah, see you later, Jowan."

I head out of the castle and back to town. What am I going to do about this? I know this is going to turn into a disaster, but short of pre-emptively killing Jowan or the boy, what can I do to stop it? I could have warned Jowan, but what would I say? It's not like he even came out and admitted, even to me, what he had been secretly hired to do on top of training the boy. This is going to lead to the arl poisoned again, and a lot of townspeople dead.

Well, now what am I going to do? I've gotten free of the tower, and while that's nice, I'm not sure just what I'm going to accomplish out here. Maybe there are other apostates around somewhere, who I can learn more magic from. It's also a good opportunity to learn a bit more about the world outside the tower, too. While I've read plenty of books, I've had little opportunity to actually experience many things around here for myself.

I'm betting most likely, if there are any templars still looking for me specifically, they're going to be looking for me anywhere but Redcliffe. So far as they know, I only came here to destroy my phylactery, and any sane mage would flee after that.

I decide to stay around here for a bit longer, blend in with the refugees, and see if I can spot any apostates that I might pick up a spell or two from, if nothing else. It should be easy to avoid detection if I just avoid doing magic where anyone can see it. Now if only my eyes weren't so distinctive.

It isn't long before I hear rumors flying in the tavern. The arl is ill and will not wake. The knights of Redcliffe are sent off to scour the land in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. My foul mood and general depression makes me blend in well with the rest of the refugees. I don't like feeling helpless, but I'm not sure what I can do in this situation.

I sneak into the castle again to talk to Jowan.

"Ah, Lexen. Still hanging around? How are things outside?"

"I'm doing well enough," I say. "I've heard rumors that the arl is sick. Strange that that happened so soon after you came here. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Jowan looks uneasy and shifts a bit uncomfortably.

"Jowan, I'm your friend, remember? I haven't turned you in as a blood mage or anything, either. I'd like to think that we could trust one another with anything..."

"Well... I suppose so... I was hired to poison the arl, by order of Teyrn Loghain..."

"I see," I say with a sigh. "You know, I'm worried about you, Jowan. I'm afraid that this is going to get you killed. Getting involved in politics is messy business, and this can't end well."

"I know, but I didn't really have a choice," Jowan says. "They were the ones who sprang me from the templars."

"I understand," I say. "I'm sorry about letting you get captured."

"No, that was my own fault," Jowan says. "I was careless. I'm just glad they didn't catch you, too."

"Just try to be careful, alright?" I say. "If you're found out or things get worse, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to save you this time. If you want, I can probably smuggle you out of the castle and get you away from here before anyone's the wiser."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm alright for now," Jowan says. "Nobody's caught on yet, and the boy's making good progress toward starting to learn to keep his powers under control. I've still got a job to do here, after all."

"Alright. I'll be off for now, then. Good luck, Jowan."

Out in town the next day, by chance, I overhear a rumor of mages in town. I trace the rumor to a small building on the outskirts of town, almost invisible tucked away in the hills. When I knock on the door, a cowled face emerges from inside a moment later.

"What do you need?" asks the man.

"I understand that this is a place I could go to find people with... common interests?" I say. How vague. That could mean anything from smuggling to looking for a gay club.

"Well, come in, then, and we shall see..."

"I think I have what it takes," I say. I lift a hand and let a bit of mystic lightning crackle on my fingertips for a moment.

"Yes, I think we might have a common interest."

I'm lead into the building and down the stairs. There's a good deal more here than there appeared to be at first glance, but most of it is downstairs and hidden out of sight. There's several other mages downstairs, some of them in plain clothes, and some in robes. I hope they have the good common sense to restrict the robes to when they're indoors, at least.

"So, we have a visitor?" the mage says. "Hmm, let me take a look at you, boy. Those eyes... I seem to recall hearing about the templars looking for a mage who escaped from the Circle who had eyes like that."

"That would be me, yes."

"Well, not to worry, you'll be safe here. We've been regularly bribing the templars to overlook our activities, so as long as we don't cause too much trouble, we can live and study as we like. We don't practice forbidden magics here, we simply believe that we don't need the constant oversight of the Chantry to use our gifts as the Maker wishes.

"I understand, and I agree completely," I say.

No need to mention that I've already delved into 'forbidden magics' and have no problem with them. I'm perfectly capable of behaving when need be, and 'non-forbidden' magics can be quite interesting and useful as well.

I stay and study with the Mages' Collective for a time, learning a few new tricks from them as I can. I spend a few weeks there before things take a turn for the worse. Monsters in the castle, people being attacked at night, deaths... The Mages' Collective decides to lay low for the moment, barricade the doors, and wait for the storm to pass.

"I'm sorry, but... I respect your right to stay out of it and defend yourselves, but I can't just stand by and watch people die," I tell them. "I've got to help them if I can, even if it means risking being sent back to the tower."

"Very well. Good luck to you, Lexen, and may the Maker watch over you."

The first few nights aren't so bad. I use my magic subtly at first, without being too obvious about it, granting support and protection to the town's defenders. But things get progressively worse, and more and more people die. There's only so much I can do without drawing attention to myself.

And then, coming down the road, help arrives. A ragtag group of misfits, led by a young dwarven man, approaches Redcliffe.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I recognize Rispy. Help has finally arrived. If anyone can get things right, he can. I watch his group go about town, learning about the threat to Redcliffe, and helping to get defenses in order. As the dwarf is returning from speaking to another dwarf named Dwyn, I approach him.

"Excuse me, ser dwarf. My name is Lexen Chelseer. I must speak with you for a moment, if you will."

"I'm Rispy. What is it?"

"I know about what's been happening in town, and I can help with it," I say. "You see, I'm an apostate. I escaped from the tower along with a friend of mine, a mage by the name of Jowan. He was captured, but I was not. But Loghain got him out of being sent back to the tower and sent him to infiltrate Redcliffe Castle in order to poison the arl. He's ostensibly there to teach magic in secret to the arl's young son."

Rispy frowns deeply as I explain the situation as plainly as I can. I feel guilty, like I'm betraying Jowan. But things have gone too far.

"So where did all these monsters come from?" Rispy wonders. "Did this Jowan do that, too?"

"No," I say. "That's the boy's doing... he's been possessed, unfortunately."

Rispy says, "Well, we're going to need to deal with the town before we can get into the castle, I fear. And I'm certainly not going to refuse your help in that."

I take the opportunity to go get cleaned up a bit and change into my mage garb. No need to hide anymore, no use in it anymore. Then I go out and meet up with Rispy and his companions.

Rispy introduces them to me. There's Alistair, the Grey Warden former templar; Sten, the Qunari; Morrigan, the apostate mage; and Kalah, the dog.

"Just what we need, another apostate," Alistair says.

"Oh, do be quiet, Alistair," Morrigan says. "He seems a charming enough young man. Certainly more so than you, anyway."

"I just want to help out in any way I can," I say. "I feel a little responsible for what's happened here..."

"This would not have happened among my people," Sten says. "We keep much closer watch on our mages, to prevent things like this from happening."

After the battle, when we get down into the dungeon, there's Jowan in the cell again.

"Jowan?" I say quietly.

"Lexen? I'm so glad you're here..."

"Jowan, these people have come to help," I say. "And they know what you've done."

Jowan sighs and hangs his head. "I knew it would come to this. I've done horrible things. I deserve to die."

"I say, if the mage wants to die, we should grant his wish," Sten says.

"Why did you listen to Loghain?" Rispy says. "He's a traitor! The king died because of him!"

Jowan shakes his head slowly. "Maker's breath... I thought I was doing something good for the kingdom, and he got me out of trouble with the templars."

"It's things like this that make me believe the Qunari are right about mages," Rispy says.

Sten looks at him with stern approval.

"Jowan, tell me you at least aren't responsible for the undead loose in the castle," I say.

"No," Jowan replies. "I don't think so. Connor might have done it without meaning to. He doesn't have nearly enough skill with magic yet to have done it intentionally. Something he did might have inadvertently torn the Veil, though."

I give a nod, and sigh softly.

"I'm sorry, Jowan. I warned you I might not be able to save you from yourself here."

"Me too," Jowan says. "Don't worry about me. I'm not afraid to face judgment for my crimes. I'm not afraid to die."

There has to be a better alternative than this. I just need to keep going back enough times to find the right path to take...


End file.
